Fallen EDITED
by axisofadorable
Summary: Hetalia: Yaoi: USUK: ArthurxAlfred: Human AU The events of 'Hero' from Arthur's POV. This story has been edited for content, you can read the unedited version on deviantart. The link is in my profile. If you haven't read Hero yet, you should probably read it first. This story is most definitely rated M and contains yaoi and USUK. Proceed at your own risk!


FALLEN (edited)

Hetalia: Yaoi: UKUS Human AU: ArthurxAlfred

Alfred had so much to drink that he couldn't stand up, but he was still charming everybody in the room.

It wasn't fair, because when Arthur drank too much he turned into a sniveling ball of melodramatic idiocy with an extremely short fuse. Not that his fuse was all that long when he was sober, either.

At the present moment, Alfred was standing in the middle of the room, holding onto what had to be his eighth cocktail as he one-arm-hugged his brother. Part of the drink spilled as he dragged Matthew closer, but Alfred obviously didn't care.

Matthew didn't look very happy. Arthur couldn't really blame him. Although he enjoyed social occasions a little bit more than Matthew did, this one was starting to wear on him, too.

It was the twins' 21st birthday party, though, so he couldn't send them home early.

Even though Alfred had had far too much, Arthur couldn't tell him to stop drinking, either. Alfred wasn't underage anymore. He was all grown up. He could do whatever he wanted.

'Alfie, Matthew can't breathe,' Francis said. He extricated Matthew from Alfred's hold and gave him a hug of his own. 'I know he's cute, but don't strangle him.'

'Oops,' Alfred said. He took another swallow of his drink. 'But this is awesome! Isn't it awesome, Mattie?'

'Uh huh,' Matthew said. He yawned. 'Alfie, I think I'm going to go home. Do you want to come with me?'

'Aw…'

'You don't have to.'

'Are you sure?' Even drunk, Alfred looked at his brother with the same careful concentration he showed when he was sober. If there was one thing Alfred was serious about, it was Matthew.

'Yeah,' Matthew said now. 'I'm just going to go to bed anyway. You can stay here and have fun.'

''Kay,' Alfred said. 'Love you.'

'Love you too.'

Matthew came over to Arthur. 'Thank you for the party,' he said politely.

'I know it's not your kind of thing,' Arthur told him. 'But Alfred…'

'Yeah. He loves it. It was nice of you to do.'

'Happy birthday.' Arthur gave Matthew a hug of his own. He didn't do it often, but when he did he remembered all over again how nice hugging someone could be.

Matthew was warm, and unlike Alfred, he didn't feel all that much different than he had when he was twelve.

Truth be told, hugging Alfred made Arthur a little bit uncomfortable now, especially considering the way that Alfred sometimes acted with him and the way that he couldn't help but respond in return. Physically, at least.

He had never given Alfred even a hint that the flirtations fazed him, because if he did, then Alfred would up his game. And Arthur had no illusions that he would be able to handle that.

There was never any of that sort of problem with Matthew, though.

I love him, Alfred thought. I love him like a little brother, which is the way I'm supposed to feel about him.

So why is it so different with Alfred?

Maybe it was Alfred's fault, but Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that it was his own.

He let Matthew go. 'Drive safe,' he said.

'I will,' Matthew promised.

MATTHEW hadn't had too much to drink. He'd had maybe two, but probably more like one and a half, and that only because Alfred had pretty much forced them down his throat.

Alfred didn't think you could turn 21 without drinking yourself stupid. Matthew, luckily, had more sense.

Arthur watched the slighter twin walk away. Mattie was dressed just like normal, in a long-sleeved T shirt, jeans and sneakers. He hadn't dressed up for the party, and he'd behaved at it just like he would anywhere else.

Alfred, on the other hand…

Arthur turned around to look for his other guest of honor and found himself the object of Alfred's imminent attention.

'Shite,' he thought.

Alfred was wearing a black tank top that displayed the tattoo that he had gotten when he was 18- the stars and stripes with a fighter plane flying over them. It stood out on his bare right shoulder. The rest of his party-going ensemble consisted of tight blue jeans and honest-to-goodness cowboy boots.

Since he was already a little taller than Arthur, the boots gave him enough additional inches that he could actually loom.

'Hi,' he said. His glass was empty, which meant he had knocked that drink back a lot faster than the previous ones. 'Watcha doing?'

'Not too much,' Arthur said.

'Are you having fun?'

'Of course. It's your party, isn't it?'

'You don't look like you're having fun.'

'Well, I am- Oh.' The last was because Alfred had flung an arm around his shoulder and almost yanked him off his feet. 'Er… Let go?'

'You're over here all by yourself!' Alfred said. 'You must be lonely. Where did Mattie go?' He looked around for his twin and Arthur sighed.

Well, that answered one question. If Alfred was piss-drunk enough to forget that his brother had left the party, who knew what else he was capable of?

Arthur was uncomfortably aware of the feel of Alfred's body pressed up against his own. He smelled good- he had put on some kind of modern scent before coming over, and while Arthur wasn't normally fond of that sort of stuff, the musky aroma coupled with Alfred's normal healthy sweat was doing seriously unwanted things to a part of his body that he would rather not contemplate.

'He went home,' he told Alfred patiently. 'Not really a bad idea, all things considered. It is getting late.'

'No way. It's not even 3am yet!'

'Alfred, when it is 3am you are going to be home in bed.'

'I bet I won't.'

'I bet you will. Because you certainly won't be here.'

Alfred made a small pout at that. 'Spoilsport,' he said in a sing-song voice.

Arthur sighed. 'I'm just honest. The club closes at two. You know that.'

'You could make an exception.'

'I'm surprised you can say the word exception in your current state.'

'I'm cool like that.'

'I think Francis is just about ready to leave,' Arthur observed.

Alfred glanced over. His arm tightened around Arthur's shoulders. 'I don't care,' he said. 'If he wants to bail, he can. Nobody parties like the hero.'

'Mmhm. Didn't he bring you?'

'So what?'

'Who is going to drive you home if he doesn't?'  
The only people left were strangers who had wandered in, and Ivan, of course.

Alfred switched gears suddenly. Pulling Arthur down to sit beside him on one of the couches that lined the room, he leaned his head against his shoulder.

'I don't want to go with him,' he mumbled. 'I wanna go with you.'

'I'm not going,' Arthur said, trying to ignore the way that Alfred's breaths were tickling his neck. 'I have to close up.'

'Then I'll wait.'

Shite, Arthur thought again. It had already been a long night, but it looked like it wasn't over yet.

After shooing out the rest of the stragglers, and finishing up his closing duties with Ivan's help- thank God for Ivan- he went back over to the couch.

Alfred had slid sideways until his cheek was resting against the leather seat and his legs were dragging on the floor. He was messily asleep, amidst a small puddle of saliva.

He looked vulnerable like this, and still too young to be allowed to behave himself however he wanted. Arthur felt a pang of guilt. Reaching out, he gently ruffled Alfred's messy blond hair, the nicest way he could think of to wake him up. 'Come on, Alfie,' he said. 'Walkies.'

Alfred opened sleepy blue eyes. He looked up at Arthur and giggled. 'Woof woof,' he answered. He giggled again when Arthur hauled him up off the couch by the arm. 'You know, I don't think I can walk,' he said. 'We might have to stay here!'

'You're not that bad off,' Arthur told him. 'You can walk.'

'Uh uh.' He started to slide down again, dragging his arm against Arthur's hold. Arthur tightened his hand.

When had Alfred started working out? His arm had more muscles than Arthur's own. It felt…

'Ivan!' Arthur called.

Alfred blinked. 'Uh oh,' he said. 'Is Ivan gonna punish me? Don't let him, I'll be good.'

'You're never good,' Arthur said.

Alfred shot him a sly look but refrained from making the suggestive comment that was probably on the tip of his tongue.

God help me, Arthur thought. I am too old for this.

He was grateful when Ivan came out of the bouncer's alcove, carrying his bag of unidentified objects. He brought it with him everywhere he went, but Arthur had never seen him open it, so he had no idea what was inside beyond the PSP Ivan that liked to play with while he was on duty.

The bouncer was wearing his coat, even though it was probably 90 degrees outside, and his favorite pink scarf around his neck.

Probably no one ever gave him any shite for the scarf, though because he was at least a head taller than everyone else he met, and bulky to boot.

Arthur was used to him, and he didn't even find the Russian intimidating anymore. He wouldn't say they were FRIENDS, but they had been employer and employee for a long enough time for Arthur to be completely comfortable with asking for help from Ivan even for something as awkward as this.

'Could you?' he asked, gesturing down at Alfred. 'If you can just get him to my car, I'll handle the rest.'

'No problem,' Ivan said. 'He's had too much, da?' Reaching down, he picked Alfred up by one arm, the way a particularly rough child might lift a puppy.

'Easy,' Arthur said.

'Da.' Ivan switched his hold to Alfred's middle and Alfred sagged against him.

'Hmm... Ivan, you're really big,' he mumbled.

'I know.'

'I bet you're big everywhere, huh?'

'Alfred,' Arthur warned him. 'Behave.'

'Sorry, Ivan.'

'Ivan,' Ivan said, pronouncing it correctly.

'Ee-vahn. Are you really gonna carry me?'

'Da.'

'You know I can walk, right?'

'Arthur asked me to.'

'Do you always do what he asks you to?'

'Da.'

'You're no fun.'

Ivan shrugged. He shifted his hold, making it more secure. 'You don't know that,' he said, which was probably the most personal remark that Arthur had ever heard from him.

'I could find out,' Alfred said in response. Of course. And then he twisted himself until he could wrap both arms around Ivan's neck.

Now Ivan really was carrying him- his feet weren't even touching the floor.

'Alfred,' Arthur said again.

In a minute the drunken idiot was going to take things too far, and Ivan was going to drop him.

Alfred ignored him. He turned his head and nuzzled Ivan's cheek, no doubt breathing hot alcohol breath in his face. 'Hey,' he said.

'What?' Ivan asked with what was, to Arthur at least, startling patience.

'You wanna? No one else asks you, I bet.'

'Alfred!' This time the whip-crack tone of Arthur's voice was enough to make Alfred jerk back from Ivan with a guilty expression.

Arthur was shocked by the surge of jealousy that had accompanied it.

Oh, fuck, he thought.

'Behave,' he said again, softer.

'It's okay,' Ivan said. 'He's very drunk.'

Arthur had half expected him to drop Alfred at the cheek-nuzzling and the half come-on, half-insult that had followed it- or at the very least to tell him off- but all he'd done was smile his slightly spooky smile.

'He's all yours, Arthur,' he said now, dumping Alfred into the front seat of Arthur's car. 'Enjoy, da?'

What exactly that was supposed to mean Arthur didn't know, nor did he care to speculate.

'Thanks,' he said, getting into the car himself. 'I mean it.'

Alfred was slumped sideways against the window. Apparently he'd spent his second wind flirting with Ivan, and now he was ready to sleep again.

Arthur sighed. Getting him out of the car would likely be almost as difficult as getting him into it would have been, but he wasn't going to wake up Matthew to help, so he would have to handle it on his own.

He thought he should be capable of that, and physically, he might have been- Arthur might not be all that tall, but he was strong and he did work out some.

Getting a VERY drunken Alfred out of the Mini and into his own bed went better than expected, actually.

At least at first.

Alfred was quite pleased to wrap himself around Arthur's neck on the way from car to house, although Arthur himself was somewhat less pleased to be wrapped.

'Hands,' he remarked.

'Sorry.' Alfie shifted his grip so that it was no longer dangerously low, and Arthur maneuvered him through the front door and into the foyer.

Thank god Alfred didn't sleep upstairs like Matthew did. That would have been a nightmare he didn't even want to contemplate.

In Alfred's room, he released his unwelcome dance partner and suggested that Alfred go into his bathroom and get dressed for bed.

The wise thing to do then, of course, would have been to simply leave. But Alfred was so drunk that Arthur just didn't feel as though he could exit the room until he was at least safely lying down, away from any potential sharp-edged objects, with a pillow under his head to prevent him from asphyxiating in his sleep.

Not that it was really his responsibility to make sure that Alfred didn't kill himself, but… Well, wasn't it?

So he waited while Alfred disappeared into the bathroom. He heard water running, and then the sound of Alfred brushing his teeth.

At least he isn't too drunk to do that, Arthur thought.

He waited some more.

Obviously, he was not wise.

Alfred arriving from the bathroom in nothing but his boxer shorts- with his teeth freshly brushed and his hair sticking straight up- was bad enough.

But, not looking, Arthur thought grimly. He swallowed hard, gritted his teeth, and pointed at the bed.

'Bed,' he said. 'Now.'

Alfred shot him a look. Then, ''Kay,' he said.

Obediently, he went over to the bed and chucked himself down on the coverlet like he'd been told. Casually, he patted the quilt beside his hip. 'Want to join me?' he asked. 'You look pretty tired.'

'Alfred-'

'Just to sleep!'

Not bloody fucking likely.

'No thanks,' Arthur said.

'Then… Sit down, okay? For a minute. Just for a minute.' Alfred sat up himself, the better to stare at Arthur. It didn't help.

'Why?' Arthur asked warily.

''Cause I want you to.'

'You're sozzled,' Arthur told him.

'I know. So sit with me.' He cocked his head to the side, cowlick sticking up appealingly, and pinned Arthur with his absolute best pleading stare. The one that always worked on Francis. Arthur was usually immune to it, but there were times when his immunity slipped. This had to be one of those times.

He winced. 'If you ask me to tell you a story, I will hit you,' he said.

'I don't want a story. I just want you to sit.' Alfred patted the spot beside him again. 'Sit!'

'Woof woof,' Arthur said, remembering Alfred doing it earlier. Cautiously, he sat down on the edge of the bed- further away than the spot Alfred had patted, but he figured distance was safer.

It wasn't.

The next thing he knew, Alfred had leaned forward and was suddenly well inside his personal space. His hand was on Arthur's thigh- high on Arthur's thigh- and his eyes were locked with Arthur's own.

Arthur's internal temperature skyrocketed as he was pinned with an intense and undeniable come-hither stare.

'Good boy,' Alfred said in a tone that Arthur had never heard from him before.

One that sent all the wrong kinds of chills down his spine.

'Do you want me to make you beg?'

Bloody fucking hell, Arthur thought, when he could form a thought at all. First Ivan, now me. What does he think he's doing?

He stared back at Alfred, knowing that his mouth was probably open. Deer-in-headlights, that curiously American expression, didn't even begin to cover the stupefied look on his face.

'I…' he said. 'I…'

It was then that he had a curious sense of déjà vu.

The first time these events transpired, he had stood up abruptly- almost too abruptly- and excused himself before it became obvious just how effective Alfred's attempt had been.

That was the natural order of things, and Arthur was completely ready for it to happen all over again.

But it didn't.

He didn't stand up. He didn't excuse himself. He didn't shove Alfred away and save himself from what was pretty much the equivalent of being hit by a slowly moving but inescapable train.

In fact, he didn't resist at all when Alfred pushed him down on the bed, crawled on top of him and started kissing him slowly and languorously.

Bloody fucking hell, Arthur thought again from some dim corner of his mind- the place, he realized, where all of the sensible bits of him had been banished.

There was nothing those bits could do to prevent what was happening, and there was nothing they could do to halt the slow build of arousal, either.

Alfred was better at French-kissing then Francis. His tongue teased Arthur's with a thorough and practiced motion- causing Arthur to wonder just where he had practiced it. At the moment, though, it was hard to care.

I have to stop, he thought as Alfred's hands began to wander down his sides. If I don't- if he keeps doing that- I'm going to-

'Alfred,' he said as Alfred's mouth moved from his own to his throat, and as Alfred's hands wandered even further. 'Alfie.'

Why can't I do this? he wondered a moment later. It feels so good. Why do I have to stop?

Because it's wrong.

Because it IS Alfie.

And I can't… I can't- Oh, fuck.

Arthur kept his eyes closed. The aftershocks were still shuddering through his body but his mind was coldly aware that he was alone, that he had been dreaming about Alfred, and that he had made a complete mess of the bed. Again.

Why was this happening to him? What had he done that could have been terrible enough for an angry universe to force THIS punishment on him?

It was bad enough that the damn thing had actually happened, without him having to relive it at least once a week for three fucking bloody months.

He was no saint.

How much more of this torture could he take before he did something unforgiveable?

Without looking down at himself, Arthur slid out of bed, yanked the quilt and sheet after him and headed for the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, showered and with the offending bed linens buried at the bottom of his laundry hamper, he felt marginally better.

The hot water had helped. He was wide awake now, and better able to accept the fact that he had no control over what happened in his dreams. If his subconscious wanted to fantasize about Alfred, maybe he should just let it. He would never, ever do it when he was awake, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he hadn't come like that since he broke up with Francis five years ago, and his body probably needed it every now and then.

Just, please, not once a week, he thought with something close to desperation.

Scratching both hands through his wet hair, he padded to the dresser to find something to wear.

Maybe I should make breakfast this morning, he thought as he pulled a handful of cloth from the drawer.

Another thing he hadn't done a whole lot of since he and Francis broke up.

Not that Francis had ever claimed to enjoy his cooking, or even eaten very much of it, but Arthur was a traditionalist and that meant that it was his duty to cook for the people he loved.

Alfred used to like it, he thought. And winced.

It was true, though. While Matthew had shied away from Arthur's tenderly prepared food almost as hard as Francis had- albeit a good deal more politely- Alfred had consumed it with apparent relish, at least up until Matthew started cooking for him.

So why shouldn't Arthur cook for himself? At least HE always appreciated it, and no one else ever cooked for him anymore.

Despite the fact that he and Francis still saw each other almost every day, romantic things like making dinner or breakfast for each other were off the menu permanently.

Arthur didn't even miss them. Francis used way too much butter, for one thing, and he never cooked anything long enough.

Besides, he was a prat.

'If you don't like each other anymore, then why do you still spend so much time together?' Matthew had asked Arthur once. He was sixteen or seventeen, and so serious.

'We do still like each other,' Arthur had assured him. 'We just like fighting more.'

It was true. He had gotten used to that fact a long time ago, and the sore spot it had left was relatively painless by now.

That was probably why he had replaced it with another one.

He remembered the look in Alfred's blue eyes the night of the proposition and stifled a small, guilty shiver.

What had happened after the party wasn't his fault. He'd always comported himself as a perfect gentleman should.

The problem wasn't that it had happened. The problem was that he couldn't forget that it had.

You knew, he thought now, as he pulled on his clothes.

Come on. Part of you knew, didn't it?

You knew. You should never have gone up to his room at all. You should have made him go home with Francis. You should have-

Little things. That's all.

He would have had to have been blind to miss the little things. But they were innocent or accidental. He had convinced himself of that.

Alfie was young, he was experimenting. He didn't know why he shouldn't do things like that to Arthur when it was perfectly alright for him to do them to everyone else.

Except Francis, of course. Or Matthew.

Arthur had deliberately ignored the hints, and in turn Alfred seemed to have taken his.

Until he hadn't.

Until he had…

No.

No Alfred, Arthur thought now, with a firmness built of desperation. Cooking. Cooking is good, Alfred is completely unacceptable and you WILL stop thinking of him before this morning's fucking sheets have even dried.

Cooking was safe, and distracting, and the only thing that he could think about with an equal focus and intensity to that generated by thinking about Alfred- mostly because it was so hard for him to do more than two things at once, and cooking always involved three or four.

So cooking it was, Arthur thought as he went downstairs.

Because he hadn't in forever, because hard as it was, he liked it, and because, anyway, eating his own food would be a treat that he hadn't had in a while.

Honestly, breakfast at the coffee shop wasn't completely awful- it was deplorable that they didn't have tea shops on this side of the pond, but he had learned to make do with what there was, and, thankfully, it was difficult even for Americans to ruin Earl Grey.

And I know, Arthur thought, setting some eggs to boil, because I have seen people try. Putting milk in it is alright- military style, and all that- but it has to be condensed milk, not cream, and absolutely not any of that other godforsaken shite that Americans like adding to their beverages. I don't even know what a half-caf soy latte is, but it sounds terrible.

As per normal, he boiled the eggs until they were so hard they cracked, and he burned the fried potatoes, and the bacon, too.

It wasn't necessarily on purpose, but he didn't really mind them that way. Well-done was a preference for some people, wasn't it?

He had an agreeable lack of preference himself.

By the time he had finished eating Arthur had made a pretty fair attempt at convincing himself that whatever had happened upstairs was going to stay there. It was not a perfect success, but he didn't expect one. He harbored no such illusions that his own self-control was that flawless.

But he could make an effort, couldn't he?

Sleeping with Alfred would be wrong on so many levels- not the least of which being that Arthur did not need to have his heart broken by a man twelve years his junior.

Even if he wanted to do something so foolish- and he wasn't admitting even to himself that he did- he wasn't going to.

And that's that, he thought.

A glance at the clock told him that he was running late, so he washed the dishes from his breakfast, tidied up the bit of mess he had made, and picked up his jacket from the chair back.

I can do this, he thought, opening the front door. Nothing is really as bad as all that, right?

Arthur's Mini Cooper looked unpleasantly smug as he contemplated it. It was as though the car were almost proud of the fact that it had come down with a flat tire the way that some people came down with colds.

It really wasn't fair, Arthur decided.

He had been right. The universe truly must hate him.

Else why would he have stepped out of his cottage in his first optimistic mood of the morning only to find that he wasn't just going to be running late, he was going to be running very, very late?

'This is why I… hate… working on cars,' Arthur muttered fifteen minutes later, as he tightened the last of the wheel nuts holding his spare tire on. He could feel that he had a streak of grease on his cheek, and despite the early-Autumn chill in the air, he was sweating. The last nut had sealed itself. He stomped on the wheel brace to make sure that it wasn't going to budge and then chucked the tool in his back floorboard with a slightly bitter air.

When he started the car, his hands were as clean as a rag and some orange cleaner could make them but there was very little benefit remaining from the shower he had taken this morning, despite the fact that his hair was still wet.

He needn't have bothered with the application of 30 year old cologne, because now all he could smell was tire grease and his own perspiration.

Arthur parked outside the club. Ivan's car was already there. No surprise, really- Ivan had never been late a day in his life.

Arthur locked the Mini, gave it a warning thump on the door to remind it what would happen if it decided to go on another bloody bender, and entered the strobing, electropop nightmare that was Tony's.

Despite the undeniably pleasant sense of ownership he felt every time he walked in, Arthur had mixed feelings about his club.

On the one hand, it had turned a 22 year old entrepreneur into a highly-successful 33 year old business man.

On the other hand, it consumed a large portion of his daily life, and it wasn't his kind of place at all. It was too loud, too hip, too… American.

Put plainly, it was EXACTLY the kind of place that Alfred would love.

And although Alfred wasn't scheduled to work today, Arthur had a sinking feeling that his enthusiastic protégé would show up anyway. He almost always did.

He'd been coming here for years- long before it was legal for him to even be inside the doors, in fact. Even though Arthur had known it was risky, he had given up on trying to keep a younger Alfred out- Alfred could be REALLY persistent when he wanted something.

The club hadn't hurt him, anyway. Arthur didn't let him drink, and Ivan made sure that he behaved himself.

At least, up until he turned 21.

Arthur frowned. Alfred had been a lot more of a handful since he became a legal adult. And he was still persistent.

When he was younger, it had been the latest video game that was just a little too mature for him, but that he just had to have.

Or he had wanted to ride the super scary, death-defying rollercoaster all his friends were talking about, or to eat nothing but pizza and ice cream for dinner for a week.

Francis almost always gave in, and Arthur hadn't really resisted too hard either, since Alfie could be really persuasive when he wanted to be, and it wasn't as if any of that would kill him.

But the older Alfred got the more extreme his desires became.

When he turned 16 and discovered the club, it was Tony's, and bloody HELL had he been persistent about THAT.

At 17 he decided he wanted a tattoo. Francis had managed to forestall that one, but Alfred had gone ahead with it when he was 18 and legally able to, and if his outward appearance was anything to go by, he hadn't regretted it for a moment.

And after that…

After that, it had been a succession of romantic- or not so romantic- entanglements.

Ones that Arthur did his best to ignore.

Alfie WAS 18 by then, and not really his responsibility anymore, right?

Which wasn't to say that he'd liked it, and which wasn't to say that he wasn't glad when that particular interest seemed to have come to an end- or at least a temporary pause.

On to the next thing, he had thought with understandable reservations.

Onward, and god help me when I find out what he wants to do next.

Well, now he had found out.

What- or rather, who- Alfred wanted to do next was-

The derailment of that train of thought got mercifully interrupted. Arthur had reached the bar and discovered that his recently hired bartender was nowhere to be seen.

The bar hadn't been opened- Ivan would only go so far beyond his normal duties- and there was already one early bird waiting with doubtful patience for his morning pick me up.

The chap looked up expectantly when Arthur opened the half door to take possession of his least favorite duty, and Arthur mumbled, 'Fuck.'

Because it seemed that today was merely going to be a succession of disasters.

Forty-five minutes later, people were starting to file in in earnest, and there was still no sign of Toris. Arthur left the bar for a moment to duck into the bouncer's alcove.

'Ivan,' he said.

The Russian looked up from his PSP. 'What is it?'

'Do you have any idea what has happened to Toris?'

'Why would I?'

'I don't know. I just… He hasn't called or anything, and I'm starting to get worried.'

'I think the young man needs this job, da? Perhaps he is ill.'

'Perhaps. Well, if he comes in send him to me. And tell him I'm not happy.'

'Of course.'

Ivan re-immersed himself in whatever game he was playing and Arthur sighed and made his way back to the bar.

'I'm coming,' he snapped as an impatient patron waved him over. 'What do you want, then?'

Surely not the best way to run a business, but THIS wasn't his job.

He was the owner, not the bloody barkeep. He shouldn't have to do this, and when Toris did come in with his tail between his legs, Arthur meant to tell him so.

'Scotch and water,' someone ordered a short while later.

Oh, fuck me, Arthur thought.

He turned his head slowly and found himself looking at the last person he wanted to see.

Alfred was looking chipper this morning. He had only just rolled out of bed, if that blond haystack on his head was any indication, but his eyes were bright and he was grinning his patented 'here I am, aren't you happy to see me?' grin.

No, Arthur was not happy to see him. Alfred was the absolute last thing Arthur needed right now, when his stomach was already in knots from worrying about Toris and he was half run off his feet making absurd multicolored cocktails for the idiots who liked to frequent his club and drink them before noon on a weekday.

He didn't bother to hide the grimace as he passed out the latest glasses of alcoholic rainbow unicorn piss.

'Make it yourself,' he said shortly.

Alfred shook his head, not breaking their stare. 'You're the bartender,' he said.

Arthur looked away quickly. That blue-eyed gaze shouldn't make him so uncomfortable, but it did. He felt as though if he had to keep holding Alfred's eyes any longer, he was going to flush like a teenager.

What was it about Alfred all of a sudden?

He hadn't even said anything… And that look had been intense and just a little bit defiant, but it hadn't been suggestive.

Which meant most of this was undoubtedly in Arthur's head.

'Then you'll have to wait,' he said. He busied himself cutting a lime, but after a moment he found himself turning around again.

Alfred was really hard to ignore.

'Alf, what are you doing here?' he asked.

'I wanted to see you,' Alfred said.

Completely matter of fact, as if that wasn't enough to nearly send Arthur into shock. 'What? Why?' He spilled the drink he was pouring and almost said the second thing that came to mind, which was 'Bloody fucking hell.'

Instead he handed it to the girl who had ordered it and began making a second cocktail for her boyfriend.

'Let me do that,' Alfred said suddenly.

Startled, Arthur turned and looked over at him. 'You're not working.'

Still, he was almost tempted. He hated working the bar and Alfred loved it… So they both won, right?

'I don't mind,' Alfred said. The corner of his mouth curled up a little and he leaned forward coaxingly.

Bad, Arthur thought.

But he heard himself say, 'Really?'

Shite. He was smiling now, and that was all the encouragement Alfred needed to begin his second favorite sport after flirting- teasing.

''Course,' he said brightly. 'You keep doing it by yourself, you're just gonna get mad at everyone.'

'I will not,' Arthur told him.

'Will too,' Alfred responded instantly.

'What are you, five?' Arthur tried to stop smiling, but it was difficult.

How could he be so annoyed and so charmed at the same time?

But then, Alfred had that effect on him. He always had.

Matthew was the sweet one, but Alfred was the irresistible one. At least for Arthur.

Problem was, Alfred knew it.

Now he tapped on the half door with an imperative fingernail.

'Lemme in. I got it.'

Even though he knew it was a mistake, it was too late to halt the tidal wave. Arthur pulled the half door open.

Alfred seized a handful of glassware, then winked at him before turning his considerable flirtation skills on the patrons.

'Could you lay it on any thicker?' Arthur muttered as he watched.

Despite the remark, he'd been only too happy to ease himself into the background and let Alfred run the show.

A small time later he had unbent enough to get out his e-cigarette and pour himself a glass of single-malt Scotch. Because the flow of customers had eased to a trickle- and most of them were occupied on the dance floor- he poured one for Alfred, too, and added the dash of water that he had requested.

'Here. Your reward.'

Alfred took the drink. Something flickered through his eyes too quickly for Arthur to read. He might have turned the thoughtless words into something awkward, but he didn't. 'Thanks,' was all he said.

There was a slight commotion toward the front of the club- Toris passing by the bouncer's alcove and Ivan stopping him.

Well, at least he wasn't dead.

Arthur watched as the smaller- considerably smaller- man tugged his arm out from under Ivan's hand, cast a last look back at the big Russian, and then hurried his way.

Arthur looked him up and down as he approached, and his anger faded a bit.

Toris looked terrible. His hair was tangled and his face was smudged as if he had been wiping it with dirty hands. Honestly, he looked like he was about to cry.

'What happened?' Arthur asked.

'My younger brother was sick,' Toris said. 'And my car wouldn't start at all. I tried to fix it but I couldn't. And so my other brother had to be the one to drive me here, but we didn't have… We couldn't leave our little brother alone when he is ill so I had to find someone to sit with him. I never meant to be late...' He didn't sound like he was planning to stop anytime soon, so Arthur lifted a quick hand.

'It's fine,' he said, to forestall any more apologies. 'I'm not angry. Next time, just call.'

'I will!'

'If you want to go wash up, I'm sure Alfred will be happy to keep watching the bar until you get back.'

'Oh, Alfred, thank you!' Toris suddenly noticed the other man and fixed him with an appealing stare. 'I don't know what to say.'

'No probs,' Alfred said. 'You don't have to say anything. I wanted to come, and I love mixing drinks.'

He gave Toris one of his grins, but Toris didn't seem to notice it. With a last apologetic smile, he headed for the staff bathroom.

Arthur took another drag on his e-cigarette. He exhaled a draconic cloud of vapor and almost scowled as he scanned the club. It was packed, so he should be happy, right?

And at least he wasn't working the bar.

And Toris was fine, and had had a legitimate excuse…

So why was he still out of sorts?

Alfred, that's why.

When Toris came back, Alfred stepped aside to let him take up his post. He moved to the back where Arthur was, and picked up his glass to take a swallow of his whiskey.

The look on his face when he swallowed it told Arthur that wasn't really the drink he had wanted, though.

So why did he order it, then?

Arthur looked down at his own glass.

Oh.

Was it because that was what he always drank?

Alfred was looking away from him now, watching Toris mix something for another couple of patrons. The expression on his face was hard to read.

What's he looking at? Arthur wondered.

Maybe he was thinking about trying some of his flirtation techniques on the other bartender. Not that Arthur cared if he did. Toris was probably Alfred's age, and he was attractive enough, if you liked the vulnerable type. Not that Alfred really seemed to like any specific type. Hot and unattached seemed to be his only criteria.

And why am I even thinking about this?

Arthur took a heavy gulp of single-malt, when he normally sipped it. He almost choked at the burn, and his eyes watered a little.

He saw Alfred take another gulp, too.

Alfred didn't choke, that was his normal way of drinking anything. He probably didn't even feel the burn, but he did still dislike the taste, because he made another small, discontented grimace and muttered something under his breath.

Arthur couldn't hear him, but he could read lips.

If you hate it so much, why'd you order it, he thought again.

As if he could feel Arthur looking at him, Alfred turned his head.

God, he looks good, Arthur thought, and it was as involuntary as it was inappropriate.

Both of the twins were attractive- Matthew with those huge purple eyes and the delicacy of his features, Alfred with something entirely different but equally compelling.

In fact, more compelling, at least to Arthur's mind.

Alfred's eyes were pure blue, with no violet shades at all, and his hair was a bit lighter. It was shorter and messier than Mattie's and there was a cowlick in the front that always stood up like an exclamation mark. His chin was a bit less pointed, his face a bit more open, and when he smiled it had a crooked charm. He was taller than Arthur, and in the past year or so he had put on a little bit of muscle. Not too much, just enough.

Put plainly, he was stunning, even dressed in a scruffy T shirt and jeans.

And he's twelve years younger than you, and a lot more experienced, Arthur thought. You can't handle him, and even if you could, you shouldn't.

You practically raised him. Even if he thinks he wants to tumble you now- and god knows why he does- letting him do it would be so wrong- and it might ruin everything good that's still left between you.

No, not might, would.

So stop. Just stop.

'So,' Alfred said, derailing him again.

'So,' Arthur echoed. He paused for a moment. 'Did I remember to thank you?'

'Nope,' Alfred told him

'Oh, I'm sorry.' Damn it, he had meant to. 'Thank you, Alfie,' he said now.

'You're welcome.'

After the words, Alfred looked down at his whiskey glance. He looked unhappy, and Arthur wondered if he could feel the tension between them. He probably could.

Arthur'd never been very good at hiding his feelings, and with Alfred right now, he didn't even know what those feelings were. Was it any wonder he was pulling away?

Alfred, of course, probably had no idea why. He probably didn't even remember anything from the party- god knows he'd never mentioned it again, for which Arthur was unaccountably grateful.

But Arthur didn't like the distance either. He missed the time when things with Alfred had been as simple as they still were with Matthew.

Turning back to the rack of bottles behind him, he selected one and poured something into a shot glass. The stuff was blue, and it smelled fruity and unappealing to him. But he had seen Alfred knocking back something similar at the club before.

'Here,' he said, taking the tumbler out of Alfred's hand and replacing it with the liqueur.

Alfred looked down at the new drink, then lifted it to his mouth and tasted it.

His reaction wasn't exactly what Arthur had expected.

Instead of finishing the shot, he winced with almost as much pain as he had evidenced at the whiskey and set it down on the bar.

'I think I'm gonna go,' he said.

Did I do something wrong? Arthur wondered.

He put his own drink down and looked at Alfred's face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. 'Already?' he asked. Alfred made no response. He looked upset, Arthur thought, but why? Well odds were he'd never know. 'Oh,' Arthur went on finally, at a loss. 'Well, I'll see you later, then.'

Walking by Alfred, he opened the half door to let him out. To his surprise, Alfred didn't even look at him again, just lifted his hand and left.

Well, bloody fucking hell, Arthur thought.

He had no idea what had just happened, but he knew one thing: He had been right. Today was nothing but a series of disasters.

It didn't get any better, either. After Alfred went home, Arthur left Toris manning the bar and went upstairs to his office. He had a bunch of paperwork to do, and that was his excuse for hiding upstairs.

The truth was, though, he couldn't concentrate on any of it.

What did he care about next week's schedule, or about the orders for the month?

Everything was falling apart around him, and he couldn't help but feel that it was his fault. First he and Francis had fought their relationship to a standstill, and now he felt like he was losing Alfred and Matthew too.

The twins were all Arthur had left. He hadn't made any other connections. He hadn't met anyone after Francis that could make his heart race.

Anyone except Alfred.

'Fuck,' Arthur whispered miserably. 'Why? Why does it have to be him? Of all people, why him?'

This train of thought is going nowhere, he told himself. You know why it's him. It's because it IS him. So, you want him. And maybe he thinks he wants you- maybe he even does- but he doesn't want you the way you want him. Is fucking Alfred once really worth losing him, and Matthew, too?

No. It wasn't.

Arthur scrubbed his hands through his hair, then expelled a long, frustrated breath.

He had a feeling that what had happened downstairs had been because of his own strange behavior, not Alfred's. Therefore, the best way to handle this was to stop acting strange- to stop treating Alfred differently than he ever had before.

If he went back to the way things used to be, then Alfred wouldn't be hurt, and he… He would just deal with whatever feelings he had to deal with, until he got over them.

Because he would.

No one could feel like this forever, especially not someone in his thirties, who damn well knew better.

Decision made.

Once it was, Arthur tried to get his mind back on what he was supposed to be doing.

After an hour or so of staring at the papers in front of him, though, he gave up- he wasn't going to get anything finished today and he might as well stop trying.

The paperwork could wait. What he really needed was another Scotch, and maybe just to go home.

He glanced at the clock. My god, was it really only 3pm?

Nearly twelve hours to go.

Pulling sixteen hours at the club five days a week was nothing new for Arthur- honestly, as the owner, his duties were pretty light. But today he just really didn't have it in him.

Ivan doesn't complain, he thought.

The bartenders were on shifts, but he only had one bouncer. Then again, Ivan spent most of his time playing video games. And he usually took a two hour break in the middle of the day to go home and eat food prepared by his sisters.

In fact, he'd probably already left, which meant that Toris would be by himself...

I should go check on him, Arthur thought. Make sure he's handling everything...

Toris hadn't even worked for him for a week yet.

He seemed competent, although he wasn't as fast as Yao, the guy before him- but he was still just one person. With Ivan gone, he might have his hands full downstairs.

Fuck, though. Arthur really didn't want to bartend again.

But he was the boss, and he didn't want Toris getting scared off by a rough shift, so who else was going to help?

There was a knock on his office door that interrupted his rambling. 'Come in?' he said.

I really hope that's not Alfie again-

It wasn't.

'Arthur? Can I talk to you for a moment?'

'Of course,' Arthur said apprehensively. If Toris was up here, who was downstairs watching the bar? 'Is something wrong?'

'Please… Please tell Ivan not to bother me.' Toris looked down at the floor, curtaining his face in waves of brown hair. His voice was trembling the least bit, and Arthur suddenly sat up straight, wondering what the hell Ivan could have done to shake him up that much.

Shite, he thought. His bouncer was an invaluable employee, but the staff tended to dislike him. He was the reason the last bartender had quit, too.

'What did he do?' he asked resignedly.

'Nothing! He just… I just… Please, tell him.'

'Toris, if he did something you're uncomfortable with, you should tell me about it.'

Toris bit his lip.

Shite, Arthur thought again, what DID Ivan do? It's never been this bad before.

'I… He just…' Toris trailed off. 'It's not him, it's me,' he said finally. 'I know I have a problem, but if he could understand that and just… not… I really need this job, and I can't-'  
'Toris.' Arthur stopped him.

'What?' He looked up, and Arthur was shocked to see that his blue-green eyes were actually shiny with tears.

Bloody fucking HELL, Ivan.

'I'll talk to him,' Arthur said. 'He won't bother you again. Just go home early, and I'll see you tomorrow. Alright?'

Toris shook his head. 'I really don't have to go home. Actually… Feliks called me, he can't work tonight and he asked me to cover for him. I hope that's okay?'

'Ah. Are you sure-?'

'I'm sure. It's okay, and… I… I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry. It's not your fault.'

'Yes, it is.' Toris started for the door, then turned back. 'Arthur? Don't… Please don't tell Ivan I complained. I don't think it's really his fault, after all. I know I told you to talk to him, but I changed my mind. Please don't say anything.'

'Oh, I'm going to talk to him.'

When Toris had gone back downstairs, Arthur settled his head on his desk and closed his eyes.

'Fuck me,' he said quietly.

An hour later, he was feeling an almost equal amount of awkwardness, though it was Ivan in front of him this time, instead of Toris.

The bartender had cast him a look of utter apprehension when he had walked Ivan by. Ivan hadn't looked apprehensive at all.

'Ivan?' Arthur said now.

'Da?'

'Can I speak with you for a minute?'

'Da.'

'I think you probably know what this is about.'

Ivan shrugged. 'I don't. Should I?'

'What the hell did you say or do to Toris?' Arthur burst out. 'He was practically crying. I know you like fucking with people, but please don't run off all my help unless you want to work the bar yourself.'

'Ah.' Ivan looked a little startled. 'He said something? And he was crying?'

'Just about. What did you do?'

'Hmm. You probably don't really want me to tell you.'

'Ivan-'

'I'm serious. Maybe I am telling him I like him. Maybe I am telling him I would like to know him a little better, and he gets scared. Is this the kind of things you want to know?'

Ugh, Arthur thought. 'No,' he said. 'No. I changed my mind, don't tell me. Just drop it. Leave him alone, he's obviously not interested.'

'If he's not interested, I'll leave him alone,' Ivan said obediently.

'Good.' Arthur sighed. 'Well. This wasn't awkward at all.'

He hadn't even known Ivan's tastes ran that way.

Well, you learned something new every day. Apparently today's lesson was that Ivan DID like the vulnerable type.

'It's not awkward, is it?' Ivan asked. 'I am always happy to be hearing from you. Please tell me if there is anything else you need from me.'

'You know I can tell when you're being sarcastic, right?'

'Da. I know.'

'Just leave Toris alone. Because I need him.'

'Maybe I need him too.'

'Ivan-'

'Arthur, I am just fucking with you, da? If he is so scared of me, then I won't chase him anymore.'

Thank god, Arthur thought. 'Please let's pretend we never had this conversation,' he said stiffly, leaning back in his chair.

'I can do that,' Ivan said. And smiled.

Even for Arthur, who was used to it and used to him, that smile was just a little bit to creepy to be comfortable with. No wonder Toris was as nervous as a wet cat- if Ivan had ever hit on Arthur, he would probably have pissed his pants.

How the hell did the Russian ever get his ashes hauled?

Maybe he didn't, Arthur thought. Maybe that's why he's so… Ivan. And then- My god, I am too old for this, too. Is there anything I'm NOT too old for?

When he finally got ready to close up at 2am, he had never been more thankful that an utter misery of a day was finally going to end.

The next morning started off a lot better than the previous one. There were no dreams, for one thing.

Arthur stopped at his usual coffee shop for a cup of tea and what was optimistically called a muffin- though to his mind it was more of a cupcake.

He'd finished the muffin by the time he reached the club, and as he was locking his Mini the only thing he had to juggle was the hot paper cup that held his tea.

This time he was not late.

And he was pleased to see that Toris's car was in the lot, which meant that not only had his bartender arrived on time, but he had also likely fixed whatever issue might prevent him from doing so in the future.

When he entered the club, Arthur glanced toward the bar first. As he expected, Toris was in place, polishing the steel top with a rag.

He didn't seem to be too disturbed, so Ivan must be taking Arthur's advice and leaving him alone.

Well, that's one problem solved, Arthur thought. He glanced into the bouncer's alcove as he passed- there was Ivan, comfortably occupied with a video game, his feet propped on one of his metal folding chairs. His bag of unidentified objects was in his lap. He didn't look up, and Arthur left him to it with a small sense of accomplishment.

Heavy handed or not, at least he had managed to clear up THAT little issue.

'Hello, Toris,' he said when he reached the bar.

Toris looked up, and then smiled with what seemed like a little more wattage than normal. He was freshly scrubbed this morning, and his long hair was in a ponytail. 'Good morning, Arthur!' he chirped.

'Is everything alright?'

'Oh, yes.'

Well, he certainly seems to be in a good mood, Arthur thought.

He didn't exactly want to bring up what had happened yesterday, but he felt like he should address it somehow.

'I, er, spoke to Ivan,' he said.

'Oh.'

Suddenly Arthur's sense of accomplishment faded as Toris looked down at the bar top. Or more specifically, at his hand on the bar top, moving the rag in small, precise circles.

'What did he say?' the younger man asked after a moment. 'Was he angry?'

Arthur thought about what he had said to Ivan, and Ivan's responses.

Well, he couldn't repeat those things to Toris, obviously they wouldn't help at all. 'He didn't seem to be angry,' he said carefully. 'I asked him to… ah, restrict his behavior to what was appropriate for the work place, and he said that he would.'

'Oh,' Toris said. 'Okay.'

The chirp was completely gone from his voice, now, and Arthur felt like a shite.

Why hadn't he left well enough alone?

Obviously Toris was embarrassed about his breakdown or whatever it had been yesterday- and he had been trying to act as if it hadn't happened. Arthur should have been able to see that plainly, so why had he put his foot in it?

'I thought you might want to know,' he said, because he felt like he had to say something.

'I do,' Toris answered. 'Thank you.'

'Well…I have a lot of paperwork, so I am going to go upstairs and get some work done. If you need anything at all, please come up and let me know.'

'You're very kind.'

Right. So kind I stepped in it without even trying, Arthur thought.

He sighed.

'Toris, have a drink,' he said. 'Have two. And remember that at six o clock you can go home.' The bartender looked up at him, blue-green eyes wide.

'It'll get better,' Arthur lied, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. 'Just wait until you're older. You'll see.'

Arthur had spent far too long sitting in his desk chair and staring down at papers he really had no intention at all of attending to, when he heard a sound outside that made him lift his head up. It was a sound that simultaneously made his heart leap with anticipation and his stomach turn over with anxiety.

It was either a herd of small ponies galloping up the stairs to his office, or it was Alfred.

Of course it was Alfred.

The door opened without even a hint of knock.

Arthur was so used to it he didn't even flinch. Deliberately he quelled the onrush of joy he felt at the sight of Alfred's ridiculous quiff of dirty blond hair poking around the doorframe. It wasn't too hard- the joy was mixed with an equal amount of dread.

'Artie? You here?' Alfred asked, even though he could plainly see that Arthur was.

'Don't call me Artie,' Arthur said on reflex. And then, 'Alfred, what are you doing here?'

He hadn't meant for there to be any tension in his voice, but there was, and oblivious as he normally was, Alfred caught it.

A scowl settled on his face, erasing the smile that had been there previously.

His moods had always changed so quickly…

No, Arthur thought. Don't think of him as being like that child- he's not that boy anymore, and thinking that he is was your first mistake.

'I wanted to see you,' Alfred said.

Shite. Was that tension in his voice, too?

Uncomfortably aware that most of the sudden awkwardness in the room was his fault, Arthur dug his fingers into the hair above his ear. 'That's what you said last time,' he pointed out. 'You're starting to worry me. Is something wrong?'

'What would be wrong?' Alfred's semi-denial was belied by the way his voice grated, and the way that his scowl had intensified.

'That's what I want to know,' Arthur said, even though he had a pretty good idea of exactly what WAS wrong. Fuck it. 'You've been acting odd. If this is about what happened after the party, you can forget about it. I'm not angry with you.'

'Then why are you treating me like this?' Alfred asked.

Arthur almost flinched at the look in his normally cloudless blue eyes. He had never seen Alfred with an expression that dark, and the knowledge that he had been the one to put it there made him swallow hard. 'Like what?'

'Like…' Alfred dropped his gaze suddenly. His shoulders slumped a little bit, and his voice faded away to nothing. It was so out of character that Arthur didn't know what to do with it. He just stared. Alfred looked down at the ground for a moment, thinking. Probably not happy thoughts, if the expressions flickering over his face were any indication of his state of mind. 'Like you don't want me near you,' he said at last. 'Like you can't stand for me to touch you.'

'Alfred…' Arthur cut off what he had been going to say next. He didn't even know what it was, but he knew it was a bad idea.

Instead, he put his hands on the surface of his desk and stood up.

This wasn't about him turning down Alfred's pass, this was about the rest of their relationship. The part that was falling apart, that both of them could feel.

Arthur didn't want to lose it either, but how was he supposed to hold on to it when Alfred was constantly changing the game up- and always in ways that he couldn't handle?

Because he couldn't handle them. Not anymore.

He didn't kid himself- Another attempt like the one the night of the party, and he would give in.

He wanted it too badly not to.

Wanted Alfred too badly.

And maybe Alfred wanted him badly, too. He'd always been persistent, he'd always been determined. He wanted everything desperately, until he'd had it.

But after that, then what?

Arthur thought -Doesn't he understand that THAT will change things?

It was so plain to him, but perhaps Alfred hadn't grown up enough, after all.

Didn't he realize that sleeping together even once- especially once- would break their friendship more thoroughly than Arthur's distance ever could?

Alfred thought that Arthur couldn't stand for him to touch him.

That wasn't it.

That wasn't it at all.

What Arthur couldn't stand would be when Alfred didn't want to touch him anymore.

I can't tell him that, he thought, looking into Alfred's face. I can't tell him how I really feel. But I can't lie, either.

Alfred was still standing there, watching him. Waiting. He would probably wait all day.

'It's not that,' Arthur said finally. He had to say something, and that, certainly, was the truth. 'I just thought it would be easier this way.'

'Easier?' Alfred asked. His brows rose, and his eyes narrowed a bit. Arthur got the impression that he was beginning to be angry.

That wasn't what he'd intended, either, and he hurried to try to clarify his statement.

'Yes,' he said. 'Easier. If you're confused…' No that was wrong, and probably not a good idea. Alfred wasn't confused, he was just very, very unwise, and all of his experiences were of the wrong kind. 'If you think you want something…' Arthur tried again.

Shite. No better.

He stopped, then, because he honestly had no other words to offer.

'If I think I want something?' Alfred repeated, stuck on Arthur's last ones. He was still across the room, but the way he bristled made Arthur's own hackles come up.

Fuck, this wasn't ALL his fault, was it?

If Alfred had never… If he hadn't…

And he wasn't helping now, either, with the way he leaned forward and directed that laser beam look Arthur's way.

Instead of avoiding it, Arthur met him stare for stare. He had never been one to back down from a fight- Francis could attest to that.

'What do you mean?' Alfred asked him. 'I don't think I want something. I know what I want.'

Fine.

'And what, exactly, is that?' Even though Arthur knew the words were a mistake, he couldn't stop them. His short fuse was lit, and there was so much twisting emotion inside him right now that some of it had to come out.

'I want you,' Alfred answered bluntly.

Well, he had always been direct.

'I see,' Arthur replied. Alfred looked like he was going to protest, so he cut the younger man off before he could. 'I do see,' he said. 'But if that's what you want, then you can't have it.'

And that, he thought, was that.

He had never said it so plainly before, but Alfred had ignored every other warning sign. He couldn't ignore those words.

Arthur would be sorry afterward for doing it this way, but there were limits to his ability to cope with this situation, and he was reaching them.

Alfred just wanted something, and he was going after it the way he always did- without thinking through the consequences, and with a single-minded determination.

He had no idea the effect any of this was having on Arthur, did he?

'Just because you want something doesn't always mean that you should have it,' Arthur told him. He wasn't going to explain exactly why.

Let Alfred figure it out on his own, when he'd had some time to think about it. But after a moment, he had second thoughts- he should try to give Alfie at least some idea of why this particular desire was a bad one.

He didn't get the chance.

Alfred took two steps across the room, which brought him within touching range.

There was a strange look in his eyes, an intense, introspective look, as if he was, for once, considering something thoroughly.

When his hand landed on Arthur's shoulder, Arthur flinched. He had forgotten how quick Alfred could be, and he had also forgotten those few extra inches.

He was already looking up, which was why he saw when the expression in Alfred's eyes changed from anger to something else.

By then, it was too late. Alfred's other hand was already cupping the back of his neck.

Arthur thought- Oh, bloody fucking he-

And then the thought, so close to completion, derailed itself utterly as Alfred's mouth closed over his, and Alfred's tongue took advantage of the opportunity his own gape-mouthed shock had left it.

Alfred was kissing him, in a way that no one had kissed him since Francis.

At the sensation, Arthur felt a mingled rush of panic and arousal. It was not like the dream- that had been slow and languid and gradual. This was none of those things.

He could not help his own helpless response- his hands locked into the fabric of Alfred's T shirt, and Alfred, encouraged, made a small, desperate sound and kissed him deeper.

That was when Arthur heard himself make his own sound.

This is wrong, he thought, even as he did absolutely nothing to stop it, just like in the dream.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is WRONG-

Aware that he was drowning, he flattened his hands against Alfred's chest and tried to put some distance between them.

When the kiss didn't stop, he dug in his fingernails- not because he wanted to hurt Alfred, but simply because he couldn't control himself anymore.

Abruptly, Alfred released him, and without even thinking about it, Arthur shoved him away as hard as he could. His hands were still solidly on Alfred's chest when he did it, and Alfred was off-balance already- he actually staggered backward a pace and nearly fell.

'Bloody hell!' Arthur managed.

Alfred just stared at him. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe what he had just done. His lips were still wet, probably with Arthur's saliva, and his chest rose and fell with rapid, panting breaths.

Arthur was torn between the desire to hit him- not something he had ever even contemplated before- and the desire to seize him and show him just exactly how far he had been pushed.

He did neither. He only stared, aware that he was shaking, aware that his own breath was none too steady and that his heart was racing.

It was Alfred's move, not his.

'O-Oh, fuck,' Alfred said finally. He actually stuttered on the first vowel, something Arthur had only ever heard Matthew do. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…' He stopped. Then he flinched a little and opened his mouth again determinedly. 'I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm really sorry.'

Arthur had no idea what to say in return. He hadn't actually expected an apology, he had expected more defiance.

He was still incredibly shaken, not only by what had just happened, but by his reaction to it.

He had known he was attracted to Alfred. Hell, he had known that his feelings might run deeper than that- How could they not? It was Alfred.

But he had not known that his own physical response would be so visceral, or that being kissed by Alfred would feel so unbearably good outside the context of his own guilty fantasies.

He knew he had to say something, though. He couldn't leave things like this between them.

Arthur closed his eyes, sucking in a shaky breath through his nose, and then deliberately forced his quivering muscles to relax.

'Idiot,' he said, because it was what he always said whenever Alfred did anything stupid.

Suddenly, Alfred grabbed both his hands.

At the touch, Arthur flinched automatically. He hadn't even known his hands were in front of him like that, but now, suddenly, they were enclosed in Alfred's.

'Artie, forgive me,' Alfred begged. Arthur looked away from their hands and up into his face. Behind the lenses of his glasses, Alfie's blue eyes were wide and pleading. As soon as Arthur's own eyes met them, he winced. 'I wouldn't blame you if you didn't,' he said breathlessly. 'But I'm SO sorry. I'm so sorry I did that to you.'

Arthur bit his tongue.

Then he stopped biting it. 'Then why DID you sodding well do it? Were you mad? I'm not going to feel right for a week.' Or a month. Or a year. Or ever.

Alfred winced again, as if Arthur really had struck him. Still, his fingers tightened around Arthur's in what seemed to be an unconscious response.

'I'm sorry,' he said again. His voice had dropped to a level that would have sounded right coming from Matthew, and it was still just a little bit shaky. 'I really didn't mean to do that to you. I just… kind of snapped. It won't happen again. Ever.'

Snapped? Arthur thought.

'Alfred…' he started.

Alfred interrupted him, which wasn't something he normally did. 'Arthur, please forgive me. I'll be good, I swear I will. I'll never do anything like that ever again. I promise. If you'll just forgive me.'

'Alfred…' Arthur tried again.

He didn't get to say it.

'Really!' Alfred pressed, cutting him off again. 'I really promise. 'Cause if you don't-'

Had Arthur ever seen Alfred this upset?

He knows he did something wrong, he thought. He really is sorry. He thinks he made me angry- he has no idea what I'm really feeling, and I can't tell him, because if I do-

If Arthur did, then what Alfred had tried to start would get finished.

'It's alright,' Arthur said hastily. 'I forgive you.'

Alfred froze. In the next moment, he took a breath and- finally- removed his eyes from Arthur's face.

'Then I'm gonna go,' he said in a small voice. 'But… I'll see you tomorrow, okay?'

Tomorrow. That's right, Alfred worked tomorrow. Well, of course he did.

'Tomorrow,' Arthur answered, because he had no other choice.

He could tell Alfred to give him a day- or a week- or a month- but it wouldn't make any difference. He was never going to forget that this had happened. He was never going to get past it.

They hadn't had to sleep together. All Alfred had had to do was kiss him.

Arthur spent far too much time sitting in his desk chair and staring at the floor, before he finally realized that the only thing he really wanted to do was go home.

He was such a wreck that he couldn't see how things could have gone any worse. Maybe he SHOULD have just let Alfred kiss him senseless.

The thought was a mistake because he could remember only too well exactly how it had felt. He had resisted- barely- because he had told himself he had to.

Now, though, he couldn't forget the lost look in Alfred's eyes when he had been begging to be forgiven.

That and the feel of his tongue… And of his hand on the back of Arthur's neck…

Bloody fucking HELL.

Arthur shivered hard and pushed himself up from his desk.

'This is ridiculous,' he said aloud.

When he got downstairs, Toris was at the bar looking even more apprehensive than he had before.

'Is everything alright?' Arthur asked, glancing around for Ivan.

'Y-Yes,' Toris said. 'Ah, is everything alright with you?'

He wasn't meeting Arthur's eyes, and his shoulders were hunched.

'Toris, did Ivan do anything else that you need to tell me about?'

'NO! I mean, no, he didn't. He hasn't even talked to me.'

'Then why are your shoulders up around your ears?' Arthur was glad that none of the patrons on the dance floor could hear him interrogating his bartender.

Why won't he look at me, he wondered- And if Ivan didn't bother him, then why is he so upset?

'I'm sorry, it's nothing,' Toris said. He picked up a glass from the bar and took a sip- apparently he had taken Arthur's advice and made himself a drink.

Arthur hoped it was a stiff one.

'Alright,' he said. 'If you're sure, then I think I'm going to go home early today. Will you be able to manage?'

He had hoped that the fact that he was leaving might push Toris into admitting that something was wrong, but it didn't.

In fact, the bartender's shoulders slumped a little bit in relief. 'Of course,' he said. 'It'll be fine. I'll tell Feliks.' He paused for a moment. 'I… hope you have a good night.'

Not bloody likely, Arthur thought.

Ivan was resting comfortably against the wall, his curtain pulled back and his eyes on the crowded floor.

He looked up without much interest when Arthur approached, then seemed to take in the fact that Arthur had his jacket on and his keys in his hand.

'You're leaving?' he asked.

'Yes. I'm going home early,' Arthur announced. 'Could you lock up for me tonight? Feliks can close down the bar.'

'Da. I can do that.' Ivan shrugged, then scratched his neck under his scarf. 'Does this have anything to do with the way your puppy went home with his tail between his legs?' he asked suddenly.

Arthur sucked in a breath, slightly shocked by the temerity of the remark. 'If you mean Alfred, I have to decline to answer,' he said stiffly.

'Da, it does,' Ivan said.

He looked speculative, and it put Arthur's hackles up.

He knew he probably looked like a terrier facing off against a wolf, but he didn't care. 'Don't push your luck, Ivan,' he said.

'I am not pushing.' Ivan smiled suddenly. 'Da, I'll close up.'

'Then I'll see you tomorrow.' Arthur turned away, but Ivan's voice stopped him.

'Before you go- I can say something, Arthur?'

'What is it?'

'A thing I have learned- If you want to do something, just do it. It seems to make things much easier.'

Easier, Arthur thought a small while later. He was home now, and sitting at his kitchen table instead of his desk. But he didn't feel any better.

Why hadn't he seen this coming?

He couldn't help but berate himself now, because he should have been prepared for what had happened.

Why hadn't he expected Alfred to do something crazy? He always did.

Arthur should have stopped it before it could happen.

But if he had…

Then it just would have been something else, right?

This thing between them, whatever it was- it had started with Alfred's flirting but it had become much more than that.

Five years, Arthur thought. Five years I have resisted him, for what? So that we can both be even more unhappy. So that our friendship- our FAMILY- can fall apart without either of us getting anything we want.

He thought of the kiss again, and shuddered. He couldn't lie anymore, not even a little. He did want it. He wanted it desperately.

And if that kiss had been any indication, Alfred wanted it too. Of course, Alfred had been the one to start it, so Arthur should have figured that he did.

What he couldn't make sense of was, why?

Why did Alfred want him so much?

Oh, he knew he wasn't bad looking. The age difference wasn't so great that he couldn't imagine Alfred finding him attractive.

But how, after five years of Arthur making himself unavailable, could Alfred still want him so bloody much?

Maybe he just wanted to know how it would feel. Maybe it was like the tattoo, or like his first drink of single malt- something he had to experience to realize that it wasn't all that special.

He always wants the forbidden thing, Arthur thought. Maybe that's WHY he wants it.

That thought led to another-

If it's not forbidden, what then?

It was a dangerous thought once conceived of, and his mind went on down that risky path without his willing it to-

If he let Alfred do what he wanted, would that make it stop?

They wouldn't have to go all the way.

Just a taste. Just enough for him to see what it was like.

When Alfred realized that Arthur was no different in the bedroom than he was out of it, wouldn't that end this?

No, he thought, you can't.

But it was too late.

Why not? Why couldn't he? There was a difference between kissing and actually having sex. Alfred ought to know that by now, but maybe he didn't. All he'd ever had were quick, hot flings- maybe that's all he wanted now.

If he found out what it was really like….

He could kiss like that, and Arthur couldn't help his response, but when it came down to fucking, Alfred would find out what Francis already had- foremost of all being that Arthur sure as bloody hell wasn't worth five years of waiting for.

Arthur dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing his fingers through the spiky mess.

So… I'll call him, he thought.

I'll call him and tell him he can… Do whatever it is that he has been wanting to do.

And when he comes over, we will...

He felt a strange lurch deep in his stomach and winced.

Maybe this would be the best thing for him, too.

I'll get it out of my system, he thought. This desire- I'll get rid of it. Even if it's just for a moment, even if it's just an accident, I'll have what I've wanted since that night...

Why hadn't he just done it then? He could have saved himself all of this misery if he had just given in to Alfred's drunken enticement.

He wouldn't even have remembered it, anyway, he thought. Only I would have.

Was it wrong, what he was planning?

Part of him still felt like it was.

He had met Alfred when he was a child. Or, at least, a preteen. Of course Arthur had never had an inappropriate thought back then, but the fact remained that he had been a kind of older brother figure to the twins- and now he was seriously contemplating fucking one of them.

Or, rather, letting one of them fuck him.

As if that distinction made a difference.

Well, it did, didn't it? But did the distinction make this better?

Alfred was all grown up now.

And Arthur was not the pursuer here, he was the pursuee. He hadn't even considered Alfred that way until the first time Alfred had looked at him and made it plain that he DID consider ARTHUR that way.

Fucking hell, Arthur thought, this isn't my fault, is it? I didn't go after him, he bloody well came after me. For five years he's chased me. If I decide to let him catch me now, exactly how much blame will be mine?

And… which one of us will be sorry?

That last thought was almost enough to stop him, especially considering he felt he already knew the answer: Both.

Almost enough, but not quite.

In the end, he couldn't call. He could not picture himself saying those words to Alfred over the phone. Maybe they would come easier in person, although he had his doubts. Instead, he finally sent a two word text.

**Come over.**

There was no response.

What? Arthur thought a moment later. Why the bloody hell not?

He knew Alfred always had his phone on him, so why was he ignoring the text message?

Maybe he was angry. Maybe he had decided that he didn't need forgiveness anymore, or that he didn't want it.

I wish he was here, Arthur thought. I wish I could see his face- if I could see his face, I would know what he is thinking.

He picked up his own phone again and turned it over in his hands.

If Alfred WAS angry with him, if everything ended now with that scene in the office being the last of it- could he bear that?

No.

Relentlessly, he forced his fingers to type in one more word.

**Please.**

Alfred didn't text him back. Knowing that he had only given it a few minutes and not caring, Arthur left his phone on the table and went upstairs to shower.

He didn't bother to dress in different clothes after- in fact, he almost got into his pajamas, though it was not even remotely close to bed time yet.

Then he went downstairs to check his phone. He knew there wouldn't be a text, and there wasn't.

Instead, there was a knock on his door that almost made him leap out of his skin.

'Bloody fucking hell,' he breathed.

He knew it was Alfred. So there was no reason for his heart to be racing or his palms to be slick with cold sweat. Schooling his face to an expression of neutral greeting, he grasped the door knob and opened the door.

Alfred looked like shit. Or at least as close to shit as Arthur had ever seen him. His hair was even messier than it had been before, and his glasses were crooked. His expression was the worst though- Arthur could tell that he was trying to appear normal, but the tension of his jaw and the haunted look in his eyes were impossible to hide, and they were NOTHING like the Alfred that Arthur was used to seeing.

What the hell had happened to him? This couldn't all be Arthur's fault, could it?

'Come in,' he said, holding the door wider.

Alfred looked at him apprehensively, although he did step inside.

'Hey,' he said, before Arthur could open his mouth again. 'If you want to tell me-'

Not here, Arthur thought. He closed the door and stepped past Alfred. 'Come into the kitchen. We can talk in there.'

Had Alfred eaten lunch? Probably not. He could cook something, but he had no idea what. He thought there was still some ice cream left in the freezer- the talking could wait until he had had a look.

He led the younger man to the kitchen, hoping that he had been right about the dessert. Alfred loved the stuff, and if anything would cheer him up, that would. Besides, Arthur just wanted to put something in his own stomach. Anything to get rid of this weightless feeling.

'What is it?' Alfred asked as soon as they entered the room. He'd never had any concept of patience. Arthur had always found that kind of endearing- not that he ever would have told Alfred so- but now he wanted to do anything but answer the question. He looked away before Alfred's eyes could lock with his, but Alfred didn't give up that easily and never had. 'Why'd you want me to come?' he persisted.

'Sit down.' Arthur moved his hand toward the table. When Alfred obeyed, he went to the counter and fetched a pair of spoons. Without a word, he handed one to Alfred and then opened the freezer. He was in luck. There were several small cups of ice cream in the back- a couple each of Alfred and Matthew's favorite flavors, and even one of rum raisin, his own.

Pulling out two containers, he brought them to the table.

Taking the lid off his gave him something to do with his hands, and he stared down at them. He could feel Alfred's eyes burning into his skull through his hair, but he refused to look up. Scooping a bite of ice cream with his spoon, he put it in his mouth.

The dessert was delicious, cool and rich and melting on his tongue, but Arthur barely tasted it.

It was his move. He was the one who had called Alfred here. 'I thought we should talk,' he said finally, swallowing the mouthful and licking his lips.

'About what?' Alfred's voice was small. He set his spoon down without touching his own ice cream. 'Is this about what happened at the club? Because I told you it won't ever happen again. I told you I'm sorry-'

Arthur interrupted him. 'I know you did.' He thrust his spoon into his cup of ice cream and set it aside, knowing that he wasn't going to eat it either. 'And yes, it's about that.'

How was he going to say this?

For a moment he wondered if he should really go through with it. Then he realized that he had to, because he had no idea what else to say instead if he didn't. 'Listen, Alfred. I know you didn't mean to upset me. And I have had time to think about things.' He swallowed, hoping the motion wasn't visible, and then forced out the next words. 'What you said then, did you mean it? That you want me?'

'Yeah,' Alfred said, without a pause. He swallowed too- Arthur saw him. He saw Alfred's hand clench on the edge of the table top, as well, and the moment when he stopped breathing.

Bloody hell. I really shocked him. I suppose he wasn't expecting this...

Because he had no choice but to go on, he did. 'And I take it that you mean sexually?'

Alfred flinched a little bit at that, but he still didn't drop his eyes. 'Yeah,' he said again.

Arthur had planned to say this whole thing completely differently, but now that he had started he found that the only way he could continue was to couch his proposition in the most banal of words.

'Maybe I was too hasty,' he heard himself saying. 'If that's really what you want- and you're sure that you want it- then what's the harm?'

Alfred leaned forward, his eyes wide. 'I'm sorry?' he said.

Me too, Arthur thought. This is NOT the way I envisioned doing this.

To cover his own discomfort, he moved his shoulders in a small shrug.

'We're both adults. If that's what you want, then why not?' he replied.

For a moment, Alfred stared at him without speaking. His mouth was closed into a straight line and his eyes narrowed a little. He actually looked a bit… intimidating.

'Let me get this straight,' he said finally. 'You understand that I want to fuck you, and you are saying that I can?'

Arthur almost winced. He hadn't put it quite like that, had he? But, yes, he supposed that was the gist of it.

'That's a little bit blunt, but yes, basically that is what I'm saying,' he answered. 'Provided that you still want to, of course.'

He thought that he might have read things wrong, that with it set out so bluntly, Alfred might have changed his mind. Maybe they wouldn't have to do anything at all-

Then suddenly Alfred was standing, looking down at him.

He really is taller than me, Arthur thought. It wasn't particularly comforting, given the circumstances.

Alfred didn't make it any better. 'Okay,' he said, still looking down with an unreadable expression. He held out his hand.

'E-Eh?' Arthur couldn't help the startled exclamation, or the way that his voice halted on the first vowel. 'Now?' he asked, babbling to cover how off-balance he was. 'Already?'

'Yeah,' Alfred said, ignoring his stutter. 'I've been waiting five years. Why wait any longer?'

'I… ' Arthur lifted a hand and scratched above his right ear. It was a familiar gesture when he was nervous, and Alfred, who had known him for a long time after all, probably recognized it. 'Ah, I suppose there is no reason,' he said finally. 'I guess I should have expected this. You've always been impatient.'

At that, Alfred winced. He stopped looking intimidating, although he was still, regrettably, taller.

'Don't say stuff like that now,' he said in a pleading tone.

'Why not?' Arthur asked him, a little of his own confidence returning. 'It's still me. That's what you want, right?'

Part of him hoped that Alfred would say no. That he would decide to call this whole thing off before it went too far.

But he didn't. 'Yeah. It's what I want.'

He was still standing, still looming over Arthur, and Arthur didn't like the way that it made him feel.

Small. He wasn't bloody small, he was average.

And he was older, and he was the one in control of this situation, wasn't he?

He stood up, too.

'Then I guess you'd better come upstairs.'

As he led Alfred up to his bedroom, Arthur felt a strange mix of sickness and anticipation twisting in his stomach.

Even though he was terrified at what would happen afterwards, there was no denying that part of him wanted to do this. There was something inside him that wanted Alfred to take him upstairs and make good on all those looks he had given, all of those suggestions that he had never quite made.

He shouldn't do it. He knew that.

But it was a little too late to back out now.

This was your idea, he thought. Whatever happens next will be your fault. Can you live with that?

He thought about it for a moment, and realized the answer was- I don't know…

By now his heart was pounding, and his palms were slick with cold sweat as he opened up his bedroom door and led the way inside.

He couldn't help but wonder if Alfred was scared, too. Did Alfie know just how badly this could go? Did he even realize that this was more than just a fantasy?

Arthur did. He knew that this was a mistake, probably the biggest one either of them had ever made.

But that wasn't going to stop him from doing it, because the part that wanted to- the part that didn't care about anything else- was dizzy and delirious with desire.

Still, that was only a small part- the rest of him felt like throwing up, which would definitely ruin the mood.

I should have had a couple of drinks, he thought with more numbness than was probably healthy.

The truth was, there was nothing at all romantic about the way he was feeling right now. But then, this wasn't going to be romantic, was it?

That had never been the intention from the start. The plan was to do this the way Alfred wanted, to give him what he had asked for.

He had never said anything about romance. He wanted sex, and that was what Arthur was going to give him. Until he didn't want it anymore.

It didn't matter whether Arthur wanted it or not. Nothing Arthur felt mattered, because he couldn't let it.

Not even if he had finally realized exactly WHY all of Alfred's seductions had worked on him, when he knew damn well better than to let them.

I'm not doing this for any of the right reasons, he thought, but that doesn't matter either.

So what if he wanted to?

Alfred's misplaced lust was the reason he was doing this, not his own.

And it certainly wasn't more than that. Because he was never going to admit that he had let something easy turn into something far more complicated and painful than he could stand.

Arthur dug his fingernails into his palms. He didn't want to think about this anymore. He just wanted to do it.

Now. Before either of them changed their minds.

They were in the bedroom now, and there was no reason to put anything off. Alfred had said he was tired of waiting- well, he didn't have to wait anymore.

Pausing beside his dresser, Arthur reached up and unloosed his tie.

He could feel the pressure of Alfred's gaze on him, and suddenly he was short of breath.

He was watching, wasn't he?

Arthur swallowed as he pulled the tie free of his collar.

Soon he will be doing more than watching, idiot.

The sick feeling was getting worse, but instead of stopping, Arthur bent down and took off his shoes. He wasn't too distracted to set them aside neatly, because it was something he always did. Straightening again, he grabbed his vest by the hem and stripped it off over his head.

You started this, he told himself as he set the piece of clothing aside. So just do it. You can have regrets later.

In just shirt and pants, he felt a little naked, but he lifted his hands to the top button of his dress shirt anyway.

In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. In a minute, you'll forget. You'll forget that it's Alfred. It won't matter who it is, because it's been so long…

No one had touched him since Francis. He had barely even touched himself. He hadn't wanted to. Now, suddenly, he did. When Alfred was touching him, he could let his body take over. If he could just make it to that point, his dreams about Alfie had proven that his body was very capable of enjoying whatever Alfred did to it.

And oh god, part of him was rejoicing because those dreams were finally going to be a reality, while the other part was just plain scared.

He soothed that part by telling it that this was going to be easy, and maybe nothing would happen at all.

I just have to make him want to stop, he thought. How hard can that be?

It didn't matter that he was contradicting himself- he was beyond caring. He just had to survive the next few minutes, and probably after that nothing would matter at all.

So what if this was crazy? If this was what Alfred wanted- if this was all he wanted- then that was alright, too.

Arthur was concentrating so hard on what he was doing- on forcing his fingers not to tremble as they worked the first button out of its hole- that he didn't notice when Alfred started toward him. A sudden motion made him look up just in time to see blue eyes intent on his own, and a muscle ticking in the younger man's tight jaw.

Arthur froze.

He's really close…

Neither of them said anything- Arthur because he was too thrown by Alfred's nearness, and Alfred because he'd obviously had no intention of speaking at all. Without a pause, he seized the shorter man's face between his two hands and lowered his head until there was no space at all between their mouths.

As their lips collided, there was no time for a breath. There was just Alfred's tongue parting Arthur's lips and dipping inside to taste him. It was hot and wet, and the sensation made a shaky flutter dive up through Arthur's stomach, erasing the nausea.

Without his volition, his hands left the shirt button they were fumbling with and landed on Alfred's shoulders instead.

Oh, he thought.

Just like the last time they'd done this, Alfred had no hesitation as he kissed. He licked his way into Arthur's mouth as if he meant to taste every crevice, and Arthur couldn't help the small sound that escaped him. His hands clenched reflexively in the fabric of Alfie's shirt, and he swayed on his feet. Not even Francis had ever kissed him this thoroughly. Barely a moment in, and he was already getting light-headed. If Alfred didn't stop-

But Alfred wasn't going to stop. He growled into Arthur's mouth, sucked on his tongue as if it were a boiled sweet, and then pushed him backwards so that he almost lost his already shaky balance. Only Alfred's arms around him were holding Arthur up now, and that was good, because he couldn't help but notice that Alfred was still devouring his mouth as if he never intended to stop.

What, he thought, what's he doing to me?

When Alfred drew back fractionally he tried to make sense of the whirlwind of sensations that had assaulted him.

That had not been like the kiss at the office. That one he had withstood without losing himself, but this one… By the time Alfred finally let him up for a breath, he was reeling, both literally and figuratively.

Alfred's glasses were foggy, and Arthur could see that his pupils had blown. His lips were still way too close to Arthur's own, and he licked them now with unconscious sensuality. 'You're delicious,' he said, his voice sounding as drunk as Arthur felt.

Fuck me, Arthur thought. A minute ago, climbing the stairs, he had been wanting to speed things up- now his only wish was for them to slow down.

He was still gasping from the last kiss, but Alfred almost looked ready to attack him again.

He sucked in a breath to protest as Alfred moved him backwards again, herding him towards the wall behind them both, but before he could voice a word, Alfred confirmed his fears, leaning in again and bringing their mouths together in another desperate kiss.

'Mmmph!' was all Arthur managed before his back hit the wall- probably a little harder than Alfred had meant it to.

Alfred's greedy mouth swallowed his tongue once more, and it was impossible to protest the way he knew he should. At the moment, he could do nothing but be kissed, but he was determined to explain that this was not at all the way he had planned things- and he would, just as soon as he had gotten his bearings.

That was the intention anyway.

After another heated moment, though, Alfred's hands shifted Arthur's head sideways and Alfred's mouth dragged itself off of his.

Hot, moist lips skated over Arthur's cheek and the corner of his jaw and then found a spot at the top of his throat that lit up like a traffic light when Alfred sucked on it.

Arthur gasped.

At first he could handle the suction, because it was light, but then it grew more intense.

His fingers cramped around the fabric of Alfred's T and he arched his head backward a little bit, giving him more access.

'Does that mean you like it?' Alfred asked against his skin. His voice was lower and huskier than Arthur had ever heard it.

It made him shudder even as he felt a stab of pure embarrassment at his own response.

This can't be right! It can't, he thought desperately. I.. this wasn't supposed to happen like this, I need a minute… I need…

One of Alfred's hands came up and delved into his hair, breaking his train of thought in two.

Nails scraped across his scalp, while Alfie's other hand slid over his back, following the line of his spine. Arthur shivered again. It was impossible not to, when Alfred was touching him like that, when he was licking his neck hungrily, and that hand was sliding lower and lower still-

I need a minute, Arthur thought dizzily again. Please… I need a minute!

He couldn't speak, but after several gasps he managed one small, urgent syllable. 'Um.'

Alfred pulled back, though he was still far too close. He looked down into Arthur's face, his own expression a mix of hunger and frustration.

Arthur knew he was flushed- his cheeks felt like they were on fire, and it was everything he could do to meet Alfred's eyes.

'You can tell me when you like it,' Alfred said. 'You know, this doesn't have to be a chore.'

Obviously, he had not missed the fact that his technique was working.

Had he done it intentionally, to get a reaction?

Arthur, torn between awkwardness and hysteria, almost laughed. 'I didn't say it was a chore,' he protested weakly.

God forbid, he didn't want to give Alfred the wrong idea, although it seemed he had it anyway.

But Arthur was wrong if he had thought that Alfred was going to let that stop him.

Now he reached out slowly and deliberately, and unbuttoned the top button of Arthur's shirt.

His fingers brushed Arthur's chin as he did it, and Arthur looked up into his eyes, transfixed.

That intent expression was back, the one that had made him twitch with self-conscious desire at Tony's, right before Alfred kissed him for the very first time.

'No?' the younger man asked. 'You didn't look very excited when we started.'

He was speaking as slowly as his fingers were working, but he obviously didn't require an answer.

'Oh...' Arthur sucked in his breath when Alfred drew close and licked his throat again. 'Ah! I must admit, I find this a little bit...'

It had never been this hard to complete a sentence before.

Alfred unbuttoned a third button. His lips didn't leave Arthur's neck once while he did it, and his hot breath slid over wet skin, tickling it. 'A little bit what?' he asked. As soon as the last word was said, his tongue tip dragged a damp line up beneath Arthur's jaw. Arthur shuddered, his head tilting sideways again. He liked that. God, he liked that. 'A little bit awkward,' he said when he could get his own tongue to form words.

'Awkward?'

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say- or the right one.

Alfred drew back. His pupils were still dilated and his cheeks pink, but his expression was no longer sheer desire served with a side of intention.

Instead he looked just a little bit hurt.

Oh, fuck, Arthur thought guiltily. Bloody hell.

He wasn't supposed to make Alfie feel bad about wanting this- or to let Alfie know just how conflicted HE really was about wanting it.

It seemed like he couldn't do anything right today.

'Why is it awkward?' Alfred asked, staring him in the eye with his customary defiance. 'Because it's me?'

Arthur was very familiar with that expression- he had seen it many times before from a younger Alfred- and wasn't THAT the wrong thing to be thinking about right now.

Well, he had stepped on a landmine, but what could he do, lie?

Even if he should, he wouldn't.

'Well, yes,' he answered honestly.

The very reason ANY of this was awkward was because it was Alfred. If some other hot, eager 21 year old boy wanted to fuck him senseless, Arthur would jump at the chance, wouldn't he?

'Am I that bad?' Alfred's tone was flat now, but Arthur leapt to correct him anyway.

God damn it, but he'd been right. Alfie had the wrong idea entirely.

'No!' he said, probably far too hastily. 'No, Alfred. You're not bad.' He couldn't suppress a shiver at just how wrong THAT idea was. 'Trust me, you're not. I only…' How was he supposed to say it? 'It's just that I feel rather like I shouldn't be doing this,' he managed finally.

'Why?' Alfred asked, as if he didn't know.

Maybe he didn't. Maybe he really was that innocent, although innocent was the last thing Arthur would have pegged him for a moment ago, when his tongue had been halfway down Arthur's throat, and his hard, impossible-to-ignore-

No, no, no, Arthur thought. He tried to gather his words and form them into a sentence that would fix all of this, but predictably they failed him.

'Well, because…' he started.

Because Francis and I practically raised you.

Because I was an adult when you weren't, and I can remember that now, even if you can't.

Because I'm supposed to be your big brother figure, not your sex object...

Because everything you do to me feels too good, and it's not supposed to.

Because… I think I've fallen in love with you, and you just want to fuck me once to see what it feels like… right?

He was almost glad when Alfred cut him off before he could choose one of those options.

What would that do, but only bury him deeper?

'You said it yourself,' Alfred said. 'We're both adults, right?'

'Yes…' Arthur admitted, though his thoughts were still racing and he wasn't 100 percent sure that was the right answer. Legally, yes, they were, but… Was Alfred really adult enough to know what he was doing right now?

He's angry with me, he thought unhappily. Because it sounds simple like that, doesn't it? But it's not simple. It's true, we're both adults in the eyes of the law. But I'm older, and I should know better. I DO know better.

'Consenting adults?' Alfred pressed.

'Y-Yes,' Arthur said again.

He had consented, after all, and Alfred… Consent certainly wasn't an issue with Alfred, was it, considering that this whole thing had been his idea from the start.

But does he know exactly what he is consenting to? If goes badly- and how can it not?- then he might be consenting to the end of whatever fucked up thing our relationship has become. Does he want that? Will he care?

Probably, Arthur thought. But by then it will be too late.

'Then where's the problem?' Alfred asked, unaware of the desperate direction Arthur's thoughts were taking.

The problem is that I thought this was going to be quick and dirty and easy, but it's not,.

But he couldn't say THAT.

Instead Arthur sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor. 'I didn't say there was a problem,' he pointed out to the carpet. 'I said it was awkward.'

'Awkward IS a problem!' Obviously, Alfred WAS angry now. Arthur didn't have to look at him to know that. He'd heard THIS voice before, too.

He'd heard most of them.

Bleeding hell, he thought unhappily. I can't even get mad at him, since this is all my fault.

'Alfie…' he started.

'Isn't it?' Alfred asked him, without waiting to see what he was going to say.

Still looking at the floor, Arthur shook his head. He wanted to dig his fingers into his hair- maybe even pull some out, God, he felt like it- but that wouldn't help matters any. 'No,' he said finally. 'It's not. It's just something that happens sometimes. It's been a while since I've done this, and you… I just never thought…'

He had to stop there, having no idea how to put the rest without making things even worse. Even without lifting his head, he knew that Alfred was still staring at him.

He was waiting for an answer. So what if Arthur didn't have one?

'I didn't really do a good job of envisioning the whole picture,' he said carefully, when nothing else came to mind.

That was only the barest minimum of it, but it was the only part he could find words for. Now he did look up, a quick glance to tell him that Alfred's eyes had narrowed as he thought through the connotations of that.

He probably thought of more than Arthur had intended, because his next words were, 'Does that mean you want to stop?'

I don't know, Arthur thought. But- 'No! Of course not,' he said aloud.

He wouldn't have… Did Alfred really think he would do that? Bring him up here, promise him something and then just send him home like a little boy who had misbehaved?

No. Bad image.

Regardless, he wouldn't do that, though.

He had never had any intention of doing that.

He wanted to say something to mend things, to clear up this misunderstanding, but he didn't know what to say, and it didn't matter anyway. Alfred had obviously had enough of his words already. 'Then quit talking,' the younger man said shortly.

In the next moment, the exclamation Arthur'd started to make evaporated under the determined onslaught of Alfred's tongue, as he found himself being kissed again.

It wasn't gentle.

It wasn't sweet.

It didn't have any of the starved exploration of the previous kiss, because Alfred was pissed now, and this was about domination.

It was hot and wet, and skillful, though, and after a few moments of residual resistance, Arthur capitulated.

I can do THIS, he thought.

Quick and dirty.

That's what he had wanted, right?

He could do this, and maybe it would be easier this way.

Sensing the change in his mood, Alfred began to be more inventive with his tongue.

I can do that, too, Arthur thought between kisses.

Maybe he wasn't quite as experienced as Alfred- scratch that, he was nowhere near as experienced as Alfred, if this was any evidence- but he had had his share of heated entanglements too, even if most of them were with the same one person.

And dating a Frenchman had definitely had its perks.

So he applied one now, and he was rewarded by a low, pleased sound from Alfred.

The younger man's fingers tightened in the cloth over Arthur's back and he pulled his mouth free long enough to murmur, 'Jesus…Where'd you learn that, huh? No, wait, I already know and I really don't want you to say it.'

The next thing Arthur knew, he was no longer pressed up against the wall. Instead, he was flat on his back on the bed with Alfred on top of him. He made a small questioning noise, but it dissolved on his tongue as Alfred demonstrated enthusiastically that he was not only an experienced kisser but a quick learner.

His technique wasn't quite as good as Francis', but it was quite respectable indeed.

Arthur heard himself moan- a heated sound that sent a flush of shame through him even as his whole body responded to what Alfred was doing.

It wasn't just the kiss- which was quite enough on its own.

It was Alfred's hands yanking his shirt loose and sliding beneath it.

It was those hands- warm and long-fingered- sliding over his stomach and up his chest.

Oh, Arthur thought again. Well, he's not fooling around anymore, is he?

And then Alfred's thumbs settled on his nipples.

Was that really Arthur making that wanton noise? He tried to stop but couldn't, as Alfred proved that in this kind of situation, at least, he knew just as much as Francis did about what Arthur would like.

Arthur, struggling not to lose himself too far, caught his breath as Alfred let his mouth go- and then lost it again when teeth bit down on his neck.

He was beyond controlling himself now. His body arched upward instinctively, driving his hips into Alfred's, and Alfred bit him again, somewhat more enthusiastically.

It hurt some, but mostly it felt...

'Bloody fucking hell!' he gasped.

'Tell me what you want,' Alfred said, hot breath scorching his ear. 'More? Less?'

'Eh?' Not the best response, but honestly all he was capable of at the moment.

'Tell me,' Alfred said insistently. 'I want to make you happy.'

Arthur was pretty sure Alfred could tell how happy he was right now, but in case he couldn't, he moved his hips up a little. 'I'm pretty happy right now,' he said on a gasp.

Obviously, Alfred was too. He pressed downward some, grinding Arthur into the mattress. 'I can make you happier.'

The certainty in his voice would have been enough to make Arthur shiver even if the feel of him and of his fingernails dragging down toward Arthur's stomach hadn't been. 'Do you want me to?'

Yes, Arthur thought.

No.

He felt a mingling of disappointment and relief as the touch stopped at his belt-line. He was quite uncomfortable already, and Alfred hadn't even touched anything important yet. This was getting very much out of hand, but he didn't know how to make it stop.

'Um,' he said carefully, because careful was all he could do right now. 'Exactly what did you have in mind?'

Alfred wasn't being careful. 'What do you think?' he answered.

Ask a stupid question…

'Er…' Embarrassment vied with lust, and Arthur felt his cheeks getting even hotter.

Alfred noticed. He leaned down.

His cowlick was sticking straight up like an antenna, and his expression was anything but comforting right now.

Predatory Alfie… That's a new one…

'Are you blushing?' Alfred asked.

He looks like he wants to eat me alive, Arthur thought, uncomfortable with the notion even as it made his pulse go into hyperspeed. 'No,' he lied.

'Are you sure?'

'Of course I'm sure, eejit. I don't blush.'

'Right.' The corner of Alfie's mouth turned up, and Arthur felt a distinct sense of apprehension. 'Not even if I do this?'

Oh, Arthur thought.

There was no way to stop the small, desperate sound that escaped his lips as Alfred's hand burrowed into his pants and warm human skin brushed up against the part of him that most wanted to be touched.

Oh, he thought, oh, no…

'Hang on,' Alfred said, leaning down to him. ''Cause this is gonna be REALLY awkward.' His hand closed tightly around the object of its search just as his teeth closed over Arthur's bottom lip.

Is this really Alfred? Arthur thought desperately. This can't be Alfred… It feels too good, I can't…

He made another sound, and his lip was released suddenly.

There was a self-satisfied expression on Alfred's face, but Arthur couldn't tell him off for it because he was still being grasped almost a little too hard.

'You look cute like this,' Alfred told him.

'I'm not bleeding cute-' A squeeze made him jerk and lose his sentence. 'Oh, fuck me,' he said on reflex.

'I intend to.'

'That's not what-'

A kiss silenced Arthur for a third time, and he thought, I'm really getting tired of this-

No, he wasn't.

Oh god, but it felt even more incredible being kissed like that when Alfred was squeezing him so hard-

Arthur lay on his back, panting. He was dimly aware that Alfred had let him go, but it wasn't until the younger man was down to his boxer shorts that Arthur remembered why Alfred stripping wasn't something he wanted.

There was no point in protesting now, though. Alfie, naked and gorgeous, had turned back to him and was looking far too proprietary for his comfort. 'You're a little too clothed for what I intend to do to you,' he said, surveying Arthur's body.

When he reached out and stroked some hair back from Arthur's damp brow, his fingers lingered, and he gave a slow, seductive smile. 'Aren't you?' he added unnecessarily.

My god, Arthur thought.

'What are you planning to do to me?' he asked as calmly as he could, given the present circumstances.

'Better ask what I'm NOT planning to do.' Alfred licked his lips, this time with intentional lasciviousness, and a bolt of pure lust shot through Arthur. 'If you don't like it, you can tell me to stop,' Alfie went on, 'but I gotta warn you right now, I don't have a whole lot of self-control.'

This isn't fair, Arthur thought with the little bit of himself that could still think coherently. Oh, this isn't fair at all. 'Oh, fuck,' he said.

'Are you scared,' Alfred asked him, 'or does that make you hard?'

'Alfred, bleeding hell…' he managed. 'Are you TRYING to scare me, or are you trying to make me hard?'

Alfie leaned a bit closer.

It WAS him, there was no mistaking that crooked little smile. 'Maybe a little of both,' he admitted. His eyes slid shamelessly over Arthur's body again. 'You look really good right now.'

'Don't look at me like you want to eat me up,' Arthur responded. His own voice was embarrassingly breathless, but at least he got the words out.

Not that it mattered. 'Why not?' Alfred asked him. 'It's true.'

'Jesus fucking Christ, Alfie!' Arthur exclaimed. He was about to say more, when Alfred leaned down and caught his wrists.

'Shut up.' His hands were firm as they guided Arthur's to the mattress and then pinned them down beside his head.

The look in Alfie's blue eyes as he lowered his face made Arthur's fight or flight response go into overdrive, but there was nowhere for him to go, and fighting wasn't really an option either.

No, he thought, no, no, this is way out of hand and I can't-

'Kiss me,' Alfred said against his lips. 'Kiss me fucking please.'

'Bloody hell,' Arthur said.

Because it was over now, wasn't it?

Lifting his head, he opened his mouth and kissed Alfie.

He kissed him the way that Alfred had kissed him first- desperate, hungry, and breathless- and Alfred let him have control for all of 5 seconds.

Then he growled urgently and suddenly he was straddling Arthur, pushing his wrists down like he wanted to shove them straight through the mattress.

Arthur might have complained, but he was too lost in the feeling of Alfred's body against his, of Alfred's mouth devouring his own.

He was making noises again, but he couldn't stop them. He couldn't stop the helpless, desperate shifting of his hips, either- he was practically humping Alfred, not that Alfred was likely to complain- at this point or at any other.

He wanted this, right? He wanted Arthur shameless and writhing, and that was exactly what he had.

Arthur barely felt it when Alfred released one of his wrists and reached down to yank his belt free of its buckle.

'Don't move,' Alfred ordered.

In the next moment Arthur's other wrist was free too, and Alfred's fingers were making short work of his button and zipper.

When his pants were open, both of Alfie's hands landed on his lower waist. 'Up,' Alfie said.

Arthur was desperate. There was no way he wasn't going to cooperate.

He lifted himself up and felt Alfred yank his pants down to his knees. He still wasn't really undressed, but he was close enough, and finally he wasn't having second thoughts anymore.

I want this… I need this-

He was whimpering in mindless desperation, and his breath was coming short. Another minute, and he'd be-

'I want to,' Alfred said to him, pausing in the middle of what he'd been doing.

It wasn't the commanding voice from before; this was a new one, almost tentative. His hands lighted on Arthur's hips and smoothed over them, although it seemed he deliberately didn't touch the part that craved him the most.

Arthur was too far gone to avoid Alfred's eyes when they found his, although he wished that Alfred would quit looking at him, would quit talking to him and just do what they were both here for. 'I want to,' Alfred said again, 'so you need to tell me if I can or if I can't.'

'Want to what?' Arthur asked. It was a struggle to get his voice to come out right.

Just do it, he thought. Please just bloody do it, before I-

'I want to fuck you,' Alfred said. His voice was ragged, and he leaned forward a fraction. 'I want to fuck you hard.'

The guilty lust that speared through Arthur at those words, those words coming from Alfie- his Alfie- made him convulse with shame and lust.

In guilty anticipation, he tensed himself for the renewed onslaught, but it didn't come.

If you want to, then why bloody aren't you, he wondered desperately. What is it going to take? Just do it! I don't want to think. I don't want to remember why this is wrong-

'Jesus bloody Christ,' he snapped when Alfred still didn't move. 'Are you asking permission, then?'

'Yeah.'

All he had to do was bloody well get on with it, but he wouldn't, Arthur thought. I knew I couldn't do this. I can't. Not him, not like this.

He closed his eyes. In another moment, he was going to give in and admit that aloud. 'Alfred, just fucking do it,' he said without opening them again. 'Don't ask me every time, unless you want the answer to be no. Because in case you're wondering, this is still awkward. I'm not a-'

'This doesn't think it's awkward,' Alfred said, close to his ear. A hand closed around Arthur's most vulnerable part and squeezed hard, as lips brushed the hair behind his earlobe. 'Do you like that?' The hand squeezed again. 'Does that feel good? That's all I want. To make you feel good.

Alfred's hot breath on his cheek, the small urgent sound he made when he pressed forward and rubbed against Arthur's thigh, even the feel of him slicking Arthur's skin with moisture…

Yes, it felt good. It felt so good that Arthur was going to come undone. It was going to make him lose himself before Alfred had ever even-

'Alfie,' he said. He had gone past the point of urgency to a point where he could speak completely flatly.

'Jesus, what?' Alfred asked him- he obviously hadn't, because he sounded pained.

Arthur drew a breath through his teeth. 'Stop playing around, and fuck me,' he said.

No more teasing, no more talking. Just fucking do it, before I change my mind.

Because I can't be like this. Not with you.

He didn't have to say it- Alfred barely gave him time to finish the word 'me' before he was shoving Arthur's thighs apart.

Seizing the pillow from beside his head, Arthur screamed a word his mother would have washed out of his mouth with soap and then bit into it.

It hurt. Oh, bloody HELL it hurt, because he wasn't even close to ready.

But this was what he'd wanted, right?

Quick and dirty, so quick and dirty that he might not even come.

He didn't WANT to come. Not because he wanted to punish himself, not even because this was for Alfred, not him... But because if he didn't come then he didn't have to accept that he had actually done this.

And that he had wanted to.

Arthur gasped, swallowing a sob.

That's why he wanted to just let it happen, but bloody fucking hell… it was too much, he was too much.

It fucking HURT, and Alfred wasn't even moving yet.

Arthur tried an experimental move himself and swallowed another scream.

Now he was glad the pillow covered his face, because the expression he must be making- something between a snarl and a sob- would probably have killed the mood Alfred was aiming for.

Fuck waiting. He wasn't ever going to get used to this. And why try? It's not like it would ever happen again.

Arthur didn't try to relax. He just bit the pillow over his face and tried to keep himself from making too much noise.

'Do it,' he said into the pillow.

'What?' Alfred asked. His voice was half-strangled, and he was holding himself way too still.

He couldn't be enjoying this much either.

'I said, if you're going to shag me then just fucking do it already,' Arthur said as clearly as he could. 'Nnngh!'

The last bit was because again Alfred had barely waited for him to finish before grabbing his wrists HARD and beginning to obey.

Fuck, it hurt, but he was hitting something, too… Without even trying.

No, Arthur thought, no, no, no. I don't want to!

t was hit or miss, but when it hit… He was getting desperate now that Alfred had hit his rhythm, and he couldn't keep himself quiet anymore.

'Arthur,' Alfred said hungrily. 'Artie, oh fuck, you're…' His body shuddered hard, and he stopped abruptly, making a small noise of his own. His weight became considerably heavier.

Arthur didn't move. He hadn't finished, and now he wouldn't have to.

That's what he'd wanted, right? For it to be over, so they could stop and he wouldn't have to.

Now that it was over, though, he was having second thoughts.

Everything that had led up to this point had made him want Alfred even more, and the last-

It still hurt, but since Alfred had stopped moving, the pain was bearable. It wouldn't take much to get Arthur off too. He wanted to reach down and touch himself. Just once would be enough...

Instead he closed his eyes, and just for a moment he savored the warmth of Alfred's naked body pinning his own half-clothed one.

This feels good, he thought, trying to quiet his breathing. It feels like when Francis and I used to hold each other after.

I can still let him believe that this was just for him, can't I?

Maybe if I do that, he'll forgive me when he realizes how much of a mistake this was.

Oh, Alfie…

The pillow was good for a lot of things, not the least of which was soaking up the few tears he couldn't help but shed.

Arthur couldn't stifle a little sound of discomfort when Alfred withdrew The pillow was still over his face, and he tried to gather himself together again.

This was it, the part he had dreaded the most. It was over. Now they had to go on from here.

What would happen next?

If he could have, he would have put it off for days. Weeks. Months.

But he couldn't.

'Fuck… ' he heard Alfred say softly. 'Artie? Are you okay?'

Alfie's voice didn't sound any different from normal. In fact, it sounded more like his normal tones than it had when he was saying all of those other things a few minutes ago.

Behind the pillow, Arthur winced. 'I'm fine,' he answered.

'Are you sure? I was… pretty rough.'

He had been. But who could blame him? Reluctantly, Arthur pushed the pillow aside. 'It's not like that wasn't mostly my fault,' he said. His eyes found Alfred's. Despite the fact that Alfie was still naked, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and his glasses foggy, it wasn't really hard to look at him.

So familiar… So beloved, those features.

Had Arthur ever admitted how he felt to himself before?

No, he hadn't.

Not to this level.

I still want him, he thought. But more than that, I love him. I have for years. That hasn't changed. It's just… when I love him now, I love him this way.

Was that wrong? Probably.

He had known all along that he couldn't juxtapose the way that he loved Alfred- the way that he had loved him for years- with the way that he had begun to desire him.

He'd thought that maybe after they did this, it would go away, but it hadn't. If anything, it was worse.

I should have come, he thought. I was wrong. Maybe if I'd come, I wouldn't want him anymore…

'Your fault?' Alfred asked, interrupting his tumbling thoughts.

'Yeah,' he answered. 'What I said to you-'

Didn't Alfred remember?

Obviously, he did, because suddenly he was looking down. 'Oh, right. That.' Now ALFRED'S cheeks were pink. 'Anyway, I've probably overstayed my welcome,' he said quickly, sliding off the bed and grabbing his shorts from the floor. 'I'm gonna get dressed. Um-' he paused for a moment as though he had more to say, then reached for his pants without saying it.

Arthur knew better, but he couldn't stop himself. 'Do you want to leave?'

Alfred stopped trying to get dressed. 'What?'

'Do you want to go? Or would you rather stay?'

He wasn't supposed to do this. He was supposed to just let Alfie go. But he couldn't.

I don't want this to break us, he thought. Please don't let this have broken us. I'll do anything-

There was another pause, and his heart sank. He was about to open his mouth again when Alfred beat him to it. 'Well… I don't really wanna go,' he said, still half turned away from Arthur, 'but I thought you-'

'Then stay,' Arthur said.

He caught Alfie looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and saw the younger man's stiff shoulders relax a little.

Could it be that Alfred hadn't wanted to part like that, either?

'Then,' Alfie said, 'if I'm gonna stay could you…'

He stopped, his cheeks going pink again.

'Could I what?' Arthur asked him.

'Never mind,' Alfred said quickly.

Without thinking, Arthur found himself responding the way he would have before all of this started. 'Alfie. Spit it out. Could I what?'

What could he be hiding? Surely he couldn't want to go again- there was no way he could-

'Could you just, like… Cuddle with me?' Alfred asked, interrupting the thought. 'Just for a minute?'

Arthur was sure he must have heard wrong, even as he was certain that he had not.

'You want me to cuddle with you?' he asked, trying to keep the disbelief from seeping into his voice. Out of every option, this was the very last thing that he would have expected.

Alfred winced, as if he could tell. 'Forget it,' he said hastily. He reached for his pants again.

Arthur caught his arm to forestall his leaving. 'You really want to?' he asked.

'Yeah. I really do,' Alfred said.

And Arthur's heart melted.

'Then come here.' Reaching out, he gathered Alfred to him the way that he would have years ago, if Alfie had ever asked for this.

Because this he could do, and gladly. He didn't have to lie to himself about how much he loved the feel of Alfred's shoulders snuggled into his chest and Alfred's soft, thick hair tickling his chin.

There was nothing wrong with what he felt right now.

Arthur closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around Alfred's body. Even if this couldn't last forever, he would hold on to it as long as he could. It was the first time they had ever done this, and maybe the last, but he wanted nothing more than to never let go.

'Ohhh,' Alfred said in response. 'Feels nice…'

For a moment, his body relaxed into Arthur's, and all the pain and awkwardness of the previous moments dissolved.

And then he made a small sniffling sound, and his body shuddered imperceptibly.

Oh, fuck, Arthur thought. Is he- ?

In the circle of his arms, Alfred took in another shaky breath, and then he stiffened as though he had just discovered the same thing that Arthur had. 'Oh fuck,' he breathed.

'Alfie,' Arthur said.

Was he crying? He couldn't be crying-

'I can't. I can't do this. Oh fuck. I gotta go.' Alfred pulled himself free and Arthur caught a glimpse of his face before he turned it away.

He was crying. His cheeks were tear-streaked and pink, and his stubborn chin was quivering. He was crying, the way that Arthur had never seen either him OR Matthew cry.

As if he were a child, as if he were younger than Arthur had ever seen him.

As if his heart was broken.

Was this Arthur's fault?

Had Alfred really been unprepared for what had just happened?

It can't be, he thought desperately. There's no way he as any regrets about what we did- Alfie hadn't been embarrassed, Alfie hadn't had any second thoughts. He hadn't wanted to stop at any point and…

There had been no reservations at all about the way he had come.

So it had to be something else, right?

Alfred had asked to cuddle, Arthur thought. And when they'd done it, he had broken down…

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

Was he stupid, or was Alfred? Could it really be true that they were both thinking the same, wrong thing?

If it was…

'Oh, sod it,' Arthur said. Wrapping his arms around Alfred's stiff body, he tugged the taller man off the edge of the bed where he was perched and pressed him flat.

Arthur could be dominant too, when he had to be. After all, he hadn't always bottomed….

Alfred blinked up at him with wide eyes. He still looked childish- his cheeks were wet, and his eyelashes stuck together.

But he was no child. He was old enough to know what he wanted, old enough to have taken it.

And he was old enough to fall in love.

A fresh tear escaped as Arthur watched, rolling down his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

'Alfie, you idiot,' Arthur said, disbelieving. 'You're crying? Over me?'

'Let me go,' Alfred said.

He strained against the hold Arthur had him in, but all that did was make him tighten it. 'I don't think so.'

At that, Alfred tried to sit up, so Arthur grabbed his wrists and pinned him with one of the tricks his father had taught him.

'Fucking let me go!' Alfie yelled furiously.

'You don't really want me to,' Arthur told him.

'Yes I do.'

'No, you don't.' Giving in to an impulse, he bent his head and trailed his tongue over Alfred's cheek, following a tear track down to the curve of his bottom lip. 'You're crying for me,' he said softly against Alfred's skin. 'That means you don't.'

Alfred shivered in his hold. 'Don't,' he protested weakly.

The immediate response was enough to make Arthur feel guilty for teasing him.

'Alfie, why didn't you tell me you were serious?' He let go. 'If you'd told me-'

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't for Alfred to sit up suddenly, breathing as if he'd been running hard, and begin to shout at him.

'If I'd told you, so what? It's not like you love me back! It's not like you're ever going to!' The anguish on his face did strange things to Arthur's heart, even as the words, said so plainly, stunned him silent. ''Cause, right, why would you?' Alfie went on. 'It's not like I didn't know that. But it's been so long, and I just-'

He means it, Arthur thought. He loves me.

Oh, fuck me. He really loves me.

He cut off the tide of words with, 'Bloody hell, Alfie. Of course I fucking love you-' but his confession did not get the desired result.

Instead of being happy, Alfred actually flinched. He sucked in a hard breath and then bit down his lip, his eyes brimming with tears again. 'No,' he said shakily. 'No, I don't mean like that. You're so fucking dense!' His fists clenched. 'I'm in love with you,' he said flatly. 'I have been for years. But you don't see me that way, and you never will.'

He stopped there.

Exactly who was the dense one here, Arthur wondered?

He had done everything he had because he DID love Alfie, right? And although he had tried his damndest not to see him that way, he had failed.

Hadn't his little demonstration a moment ago, with his tongue… But maybe Alfred had been too upset to notice that.

'Alfred, you prat, do you think I would have fucking slept with you if I didn't see you that way?' he asked, shoving down his own irritation.

A confession deserved a little bit more of a fanfare than this, didn't it?

He certainly hadn't expected Alfred to call him stupid.

'Are you trying to tell me you wanted to?' Alfred demanded now. His hair was messy, and his face was still tear-streaked. He looked defiant and pissed off and… speculative?

'I'm not trying to tell you anything,' Arthur denied quickly.

Alfred leaned forward, squinting at his face. 'What is it?'

'What is what?'

'What are you hiding?'

'I'm not hiding anything, Alfred.'

'Tell me,' Alfie said, pinning him with a laser-blue stare. 'Tell me that you wanted this, too.'

Of course I did, Arthur thought. Are you an idiot?

But maybe they both were.

Would Alfred really have pursued him this hard for one not very spectacular fuck?

'Artie?' Alfred pressed, and he decided to give in.

'I wouldn't have taken my clothes off if I didn't. I'm a gentleman, but I'm not that much of a gentleman.'

There was a moment's pause while Alfred took that in, and then, 'How long?' he asked.

'What is this, an interrogation?' Arthur responded.

'Maybe.'

'You're not crying anymore.' It was true, his tears had stopped, and his eyes were bright again. Arthur would have been happy, but he had a feeling that the change was only because Alfred was about to pounce on him.

'Don't try to change the subject,' Alfred said. 'How long?'

Arthur's heart started to pound. I can't, he thought. I am so not ready to do that again… Besides, we just admitted we love each other- this changes everything!

He shook his head and started to get up, wanting to put some distance between them while he figured out how he should handle things now that he knew the truth.

Alfred didn't let him. Alfred took him by the shoulders, his fingers just tight enough, and held him still.

'Tell me,' he said.

'Let go,' Arthur said firmly.

'You didn't when I asked.' Now Alfred pushed him down on the bed- he tried to resist, but it was futile, Alfred was stronger.

Alfie leaned over him. 'How long?' he repeated. When Arthur tried to sit up again, a hand landed on his chest and pressed him flat. 'How long did you want to?'

There was no escape, so Arthur gave up and answered. 'Since you started flirting with me,' he said. His breathing was still even, but his racing heart threatened to pound its way through his ribs.

Although he was nervous about where this was going, he was starting to get turned on again.

'Really?' Alfred asked. 'Then why didn't you do something?'

'Because you were eighteen,' Arthur managed. 'And because it wouldn't have been right.'

Alfred's hand moved on his chest, sliding sideways under the edge of his shirt.

'And now?' he asked pointedly. 'Is it still not right?'

Arthur grabbed his wrist, but he didn't lift the hand away from his skin. Fuck it, he thought. 'You're a big boy now.'

Alfred didn't miss the not-so-subtle double-entendre. 'Mmm,' he said. 'So you noticed.'

His voice had regained that seductive quality again, the one that sent shivers all the way down to Arthur's toes.

Now Alfred dipped his head and nuzzled his lips along Arthur's jaw.

'Alfie,' Arthur said weakly.

'Artie,' Alfred answered him.

Lips had turned to teeth, and there was no way for Arthur to keep his breathing steady now. 'Don't call me Artie,' he said anyway.

Alfred's hand was still planted on his chest, although it had started to ease its way slowly upward. 'When I kissed you,' he said low by Arthur's ear, 'in the office. You acted like you hated it. Later you seemed to get into it some, but-'

'I didn't hate it,' Arthur interrupted.

'I thought you hated me,' Alfred said.

'I don't.'

'Artie…'

'I said don't call me-'

'Why not?' The mouth by his ear dropped lower, and Alfred's tongue licked over his collar bone. 'You like it. You probably like everything I do.'

'No, I don't.'

'You do. And you can call me Alfrizzle Fo Shizzle.'

'I will not.'

'You sure? I bet I can make you.'

Now his tongue was invading Arthur's ear.

Arthur started to push him away, and then gasped when Alfie's other hand traveled lower. 'Bloody hell,' he said.

'So tell me,' Alfred said into his ear, without pausing the torturous motion at all. 'If you wanted me when I kissed you, then why did you push me away?'

Arthur couldn't help moving restlessly. 'I…' he tried. 'I don't know… I just... I couldn't…'

'It's okay.' Alfred moved his grip. 'You don't have to say anything else. Just tell me one thing.'

'…What?'

'If I had just wanted a fuck or two, would you have been okay with that?'

Arthur sucked in a hard breath. That thing Alfred was doing to him should be illegal. It probably was, somewhere. 'No. But I wouldn't have expected more... Bloody HELL, Alfred.'

Alfred didn't stop. 'Why not?' he asked, moving his hand up again.

Arthur took another desperate breath. 'Do we have to have this conversation now?' he begged.

'Yeah,' Alfred said.

I can't breathe, Arthur thought. He moaned a little, he couldn't stop himself. '…If you keep doing that, I'm not going to be much good for anything else,' he said raggedly.

'I don't need you for anything else,' Alfie told him. 'I like this. Answer the question.'

'Ah… What question?'

If Alfred didn't stop-

'Why wouldn't you have been okay with it?' Alfred asked him.

Arthur tried to answer. He really did. 'Because… I … Oh, Christ, Alfred!'

He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Alfred finally took his hand away, but it didn't matter. Alfie's mouth covered his, and his tongue stole what little breath Arthur had had gained from the respite.

Then, just when he was getting into it, Alfred pulled back and looked down.

'What-' Arthur started. He sat up too, confused and a little irritated.

Suddenly he saw Alfred's mouth quirk in that familiar wicked smile, and then Alfie bent forward in one quick motion and licked him.

'Bleeding fucking HELL!' Arthur said.

A second more, and he gave in to the urge to bury his hands in that mop of blond hair.

Where had Alfred learned to do that?

He was better at it than anyone else who had ever had their mouth there. Some of the things he was doing now were making Arthur see stars-

He's practically swallowing it, and his tongue…

Arthur didn't even try to stop the rush of heat that swept through his body, or the desperate curses that escaped his mouth.

'I could do that all day,' Alfred said, looking up at him.

'I couldn't,' Arthur told him after a moment. He was still breathing heavily from his exertions, and it wasn't hard to remember that HE wasn't 21 anymore.

'You might have to,' Alfred said, rolling onto his back beside him. 'At least until I get tired of you.'

'I hope that was a joke.'

'It was.' Alfie grinned, obviously very pleased with himself. 'I could never get tired of you.'

Arthur wanted to say something similar- he had known THAT part wasn't a joke, after all. But he couldn't. As it turned out, he didn't have to.

'Let's cuddle again,' Alfred said suddenly.

Something in his voice made Arthur suspect that wasn't all he had in mind. He tensed. There was no way he could-

'Are you sure that's all you want to do?' he asked apprehensively.

'Well… not really.' Alfred rolled over again, and suddenly wrapped himself around Arthur's shuddering body. 'But I'll give you a break if you'll spoon with me.'

'Deal,' Arthur said instantly.

He could feel warm breath in his hair- and a something else, although Alfie was doing an admirable job of restraining himself to just cuddling right now.

That ice cream Arthur had got out of the freezer had probably melted all over the table by this point, and he had absolutely no idea how he was going to explain any of this to Matthew, or to Francis.

But-

But for now he was happy to just be held.

We should have done this ages ago, he thought. Alright, maybe not ages. In fact… maybe we waited just long enough.

He had forgotten all of his reservations, all of his intentions, wrong or otherwise. None of that mattered anymore, anyway.

Maybe he would be up for something more later- actually, he probably WOULD be.

He wasn't that damn old yet, and he had a feeling that Alfred could do a pretty good job of convincing him it would be worth the effort.


End file.
